Highlander: Promises
by SMR723
Summary: COMPLETED. This is the 2nd story in the Maura trilogy. While visiting Duncan MacLeod, Maura runs into an old lover. Now that she knows his true identity, will she keep the promise she made long ago to kill him?


AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is the second of a trilogy consisting of "Maura," "Promises" and "Choices". I believe each story can stand on its own but they make the most sense read in order. The character Maura is a figment of this author's overactive imagination and does not exist in Highlander canon (but I certainly wish she did!) Any and all feedback is gratefully accepted and much appreciated.

**HIGHLANDER: PROMISES**

Joe Dawson glanced up from his work behind the bar as the front door opened. He smiled broadly as the two people he had been waiting for entered, laughing and talking animatedly with each other. Joe caught Duncan MacLeod's eye and pointed to a table near the stage. MacLeod obediently began to steer the young woman with him toward the table, but she turned to give Joe a quick wave and a smile first. Dawson felt a flash of envy at his Immortal friend, who had always had incredible luck when it came to women; this time was certainly no exception. This particular young woman was tall and slim, with long hair the color of rich dark honey that fell in a mass of soft curls down her back. Her face might be considered ordinary if it weren't for the hypnotic green eyes that sparkled like emeralds when she laughed. Dawson found it hard not to stare as he noticed that she was laughing now. Anyone looking at her would have thought she was in her mid-20's; he still found it hard to believe she was almost 1500 years old.

As he prepared their usual drinks, Joe couldn't help remembering the day exactly six weeks ago when MacLeod had first walked casually into the bar with her. Joe had thought he was going to have a stroke right then and there when he recognized her. After all, the story of Maura and Darius was legendary among the Watchers and had always been one of his personal favorites.

Fifteen centuries ago, the Immortal Darius had been a great general who led a barbarian army across Europe. His also Immortal second-in-command, Grayson, had been the one to find Maura in a small village they had conquered, but when Darius and Maura saw each other it had been love at first sight. They had been together for almost 60 years, sweeping across Europe like a deadly plague, before Darius suddenly renounced war after taking the head of an ancient Immortal monk at the gates of Paris. The power of that Quickening had changed him forever and he had entered the monastery, forcing him to leave behind the lovely young lady Joe Dawson was looking at now. Watching her smile, Joe couldn't imagine how Darius had been able to do it.

Joe smiled sadly to himself as he thought about how kind she had been to him in spite of the knowledge that his brother-in-law had been the one who finally took Darius' life. He still had night­mares about all the people James Horton had killed -- mortal and Immortal alike. He lived with the guilt of having brought James into the Watchers in the first place and then saving him from death the first time he and MacLeod had gone up against each other. Those choices had led to so many deaths -- and the worst had been Darius, who had been a shining beacon of hope to the Watchers, a symbol of what Immortality could mean. Many had hoped he would be last, then one of their own had destroyed that dream. And because Horton had arranged it so there would be no Quickening, Joe did not even have the comfort of knowing that the essence of that incredible life had been passed on to an Immortal who might one day be the last.

He pulled himself out of his reverie as he approached the table where MacLeod and Maura were sitting, but he wasn't quick enough replacing the sad look that had crossed his distinguished features with a smile. Maura pinned him with a severe look from those ancient eyes as she said lightly, "Did you forget it's Thursday. No bad thoughts are allowed, only happy ones."

A genuine smile lit Dawson's lips as he replied smoothly, "Now that you're here how could I be anything but happy?"

Maura laughed with delight and, turning to MacLeod, teased gently, "You'd better watch out; you've got some serious competition with the ladies here."

MacLeod joined in the laughter. "Maybe I better start taking notes."

Maura smiled, "I think you better."

An hour later Duncan MacLeod sat alone at the table watching as Maura joined Joe for an impromptu jam session. She was a talented musician and singer, and MacLeod was glad to see that their shared love of music had strengthened the growing bond of friendship between them. He was relieved that they genuinely seemed to like each other, and that her acceptance seemed to be helping Joe let go of some of the guilt he had carried around since Darius' death. He remembered his own reaction when he had walked into his class on ancient weaponry six weeks ago and seen her sitting there. He'd been torn by the conflicting emotions her return dredged up – memories of Tessa, who had still been alive the last time they'd seen each other, and of Darius, who had been so senselessly taken from them, and of Maura's own heartbreaking request that he take her head because the grief was so overwhelming she could no longer bear it.

Now, sitting watching the two of them play, he had to admit he was happy she had come back. Her return had forced him to confront some of those old memories, finally allowing the good ones to surface without the pain they had previously brought with them. Spending time with her was soothing, like walking on the beach on a clear summer day. And knowing they could never be more than friends made the relationship even more comfortable. He found himself looking forward to class day, which had come to include dinner and animated conversation with some of the students after class, then going to _Joe's_ afterward. The three of them would sit talking and laughing for hours or MacLeod would sit back as he was now listening to them play.

MacLeod was pulled from his introspection by Joe stopping on his way to the bar to ask if he needed another drink. His thoughts were steered to a totally different track when Joe put the requested drink in front of him and said offhandedly, "Oh, by the way, Pierson called this morning. He should be back sometime next week."

"That's nice," MacLeod responded noncommittally at the unexpected news. Adam Pierson, a/k/a Methos, the oldest living Immortal, was a puzzle that MacLeod wasn't sure he wanted to solve anymore. Every time he thought he had the ancient Immortal figured out there would come another curve out of left field. MacLeod still had trouble accepting that the seemingly mild mannered, if a little cynical, perpetual graduate student he had come to know and like could have been one of the legendary Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, who had ridden across the known world for hundreds of years during the Bronze Age bringing death and destruction to everyone in their path.

As his eyes returned to Joe and Maura on the stage, he wondered briefly if he should forewarn her. After all she had been a good friend of Cassandra's for a time and might share the Immortal sorceress' hatred of Methos from her time as his captive in the Bronze Age. Watching her laughing at something Joe had said, MacLeod decided against it. After all she only came up once a week for class. What were the chances they would run into each other before he had a chance to ask Methos if he knew her?

-----

Methos was tired, a bone deep exhaustion that made even the simplest task an onerous burden. He had been traveling almost non-stop for the last week and the lack of sleep was taking its toll. Truth be told the traveling had very little to do with the lack of sleep. He had not had a full night's sleep since Kronos had reappeared, reopening very old wounds and blowing apart the new life he had begun to build for himself.

Now Kronos, Silas and Caspian were all dead -- the Four Horsemen would be no more forever -- but he was left with the memories, memories that he had once managed to bury away in a dark corner of his mind so that he never had to look at them. But now they had escaped from that dark corner and brought back with them the nightmares that had plagued him when he first broke away from his "brothers" so long ago. So many deaths, so much blood on his hands that it could never be completely washed away.

He had searched for many years for answers -- and for absolution -- but neither had been forthcoming. In the end he had learned to live with the memories by pushing them away in that dark corner and closing the door. Maybe not the solution a psychiatrist would recommend, but it had worked for a long time. Until Kronos had appeared out of nowhere and plunged a dagger into his chest. Now his biggest secret was out and his ghosts were having a field day. His relationships with MacLeod and Joe Dawson were still strained. The reality of what he had once been sickened them as it sickened him when he thought about it for very long. A little voice in his mind screamed at him, reminding him that he had changed a great deal in the intervening millennia, but it was little consolation when all he could see in his dreams was a parade of those he had hurt or killed.

Now he needed to rebuild his life again. Between Alexa's death, having to leave his safe existence as part of the Watchers, the return of Kronos and the other Horsemen, and the death of his old friend Lord Byron at MacLeod's hands, it had been a very bad year. It had seemed a good idea to get away for awhile and try to sort things out. But after traveling for almost two months, he had realized it wasn't helping and decided to come home.

Home -- there was a strange concept for a 5,000 year old Immortal. Where was home really, and why did he think of this particular place that way? Maybe because he had been happy here for awhile, had found friends who trusted and believed in him, and had even briefly had love.

Thoughts of Alexa made him even sadder, but at least she had not been there when Kronos reappeared. He would never have to see on her face the look that had been on MacLeod's when he found out about the Four Horsemen. The trust between them had been shattered, and he knew his friends would never look at him the same way again. What had passed between him and MacLeod during the double Quickening following the deaths of Kronos and Silas had helped ease the strain, but rebuilding their relationship would take time.

The exhaustion and frustration welled up in him. _Why bother, why not just cut my losses now and move on_, he thought, _after all what do I really have left here_? A few months ago his friendship with MacLeod and Dawson would have been a good enough answer but, now that they knew the truth, he was finding it harder and harder to face them.

When he finally reached his apartment, he fell into bed still clothed and his eyes closed as soon as his head hit the pillow. But in spite of his exhaustion the nightmares still came. He slept fitfully until dawn when the exhaustion finally chased even the nightmares away.

When he woke up again it was late afternoon and he felt better than he had in weeks. After a shower, he felt restless and started to pick up one of the books he had bought during his travels. Glancing at the calendar, he realized it was Thursday and wondered idly how MacLeod's class had been going. Putting the book back down, he decided to stop by Joe's to catch up on all that had happened while he was gone.

-----

MacLeod and Maura had just seated themselves at their usual table when they felt the presence of another of their kind. Forgetting his concerns of the previous week, MacLeod relaxed when he saw the other Immortal but was reminded of his reservations when he saw Maura tense up as her eyes widened in stunned surprise.

Methos had barely walked through the door when he sensed the presence of other Immortals. Hoping it was just MacLeod and Amanda, he quickly scanned the room. His heart, which had been pound­­ing wildly in his chest, suddenly stopped as his eyes met a pair of soft green ones. Maura. He almost said it out loud but managed to restrain himself as the memories flooded over him.

FLASHBACK: French Resort Town - June 1893

It was too hot for June. Methos wiped the sweat from his brow as he walked toward the shopping district near the beach. There were plenty of people around, which took the edge off his nervousness. He hated having to leave his sword behind – an unarmed Immortal was too easy a target – but he hadn't had much choice. There was simply no place to hide it. Since even the lightweight clothing he wore felt heavy against his skin in the cloying heat, wearing anything bulky enough to hide a sword was out of the question.

He reached into his pocket to reassure himself that the custom-made knife was still there. If it came down to a fight, he might not be able to take a head with it, but it would take an opponent down long enough for him to escape. He had not lived almost 5,000 years by being careless or stupid. The world had changed so that it was no longer fashionable to carry a weapon in open view; that meant improvising and Methos had always been good at improvising. The midday crowd was also a safety factor. Immortal combat was not meant for mortal eyes, so as long as he stayed on the main streets he knew he would be safe.

He'd had concerns about making this trip, but in the end the opportunities it presented had outweighed the dangers. He had been on a philosophical quest for some time, exploring different philosophies and seeking out great thinkers. And one of the most promising minds of the present generation, Francois Delacroix, would be giving a speech at a symposium here in several weeks. Delacroix was a protege of Father Darius, whom Methos knew to be the legendary Immortal Darius. Methos didn't expect to meet Father Darius, who never left holy ground, but he was very interested in speaking to Delacroix about the priest's teachings if it was at all possible. He'd decided the best way to guarantee that would be to arrive several weeks early to ingratiate himself with the symposium organizers so he could get unrestricted access to Delacroix.

As he made his way up the promenade toward the café where he was supposed to meet the symposium coordinator, Madeline Dupree, he noticed a woman standing by the rail looking out over the sea. She wore a flowing white dress with light blue accents at the waist and cuffs and carried a matching parasol. As he drew closer he was startled by the sensation that warned of another Immortal nearby. Silently cursing this stroke of bad luck, he reached for the knife in his pocket as his eyes scanned the promenade, which was dotted with sightseers enjoying the bright summer day.

Not seeing anyone suspicious, he returned his attention to the woman by the railing, who had turned to face him. A look of surprise flickered across his face as he realized that, contrary to his expectations, she was not one of those middle aged matrons who occupied their time with charity work and the intellectual cause of the week. Rather, she was young and pretty in a girl next door sort of way -- slender and fair, her simple features framed by wisps of honey-colored hair that had escaped from the loose bun she wore. Her most striking feature was her eyes, which glittered like emeralds in the bright sunlight. Even the relative shade provided by the parasol couldn't shadow their brilliance -- or their agelessness. She was the one he had sensed.

-----

Maura was enjoying the beautiful day. As she waited for Michael Devereaux to arrive for their appointment, she basked in the warmth of the sun and savored the gentle breeze that blew in lightly from the sea, taking the edge off the unbearable heat.

She had no illusions about the symposium. There was going to be trouble. From the time Darius' students had begun making an impact on the world, spreading dreams of peace and brotherhood among peoples grown weary of war, and Grayson had noticed and started killing them, Maura and a small group of Immortals who believed in Darius, had taken on the duty of protecting them. Although Grayson was personally tied up with one of his petty wars, she knew his minions would be there to stir up trouble. With Darius' newest protege, Francois Delacroix, being a featured speaker at the symposium, it was too tempting a target for Grayson to resist. He still believed that Darius and Maura had betrayed him and stolen his chance to rule the world. The depth of his anger toward them had only grown over the years and it had spread to include anything that mattered to them. Targeting the students, most of whom were mortal, was the perfect revenge, especially since Darius was powerless to stop him.

She sighed as she watched the rhythmic movement of the water, deciding it was best to enjoy the peace of this day while it lasted. There wouldn't be more like it any time soon. Her reverie was broken by the sensation of another Immortal nearby. She forced herself to look around slowly so as not to draw attention to herself. Her eyes were drawn to a young man walking slowly down the promenade toward her as he scanned the crowd. He was tall, with dark hair and eyes, and a decep­tively slight build -- deceptive because he moved with a fluid grace that indicated extensive physical training, and the light summerweight shirt and pants he wore hinted at a well-defined body. The powerful attraction she felt as she watched him move closer unsettled her, and she forced down the blush that wanted to spread across her cheeks at the direction her thoughts had turned.

His eyes finally turned to her and she was amused at his discom­fiture. This was a man not used to misjudging situations, but it was obvious he had originally dismissed her as the Immortal he had sensed. He relaxed perceptibly as he moved closer, although one hand remained in his pocket where she assumed he had a weapon of some kind -- definitely not a full-fledged sword she noted. That was good. She gripped the parasol a little tighter, secure in the knowledge that its hollow core held her weapon. A quick twist of the base would free it in seconds.

He stopped several feet from where she stood, giving her a chance to assess him up close. Her initial impression had been correct. He was very good looking with strong patrician features and dark mysterious eyes. She felt the flutter of attraction shoot through her again but restrained any outward signs. "Monsieur Devereaux, I presume," she said evenly. "I am Madeline Dupree."

He smiled disarmingly as he assessed her in turn. She looked European, but definitely not French. His eyes moved to the hands that were gripping the parasol a little too tightly, and, noting the gold wedding band on her left hand, he found himself wondering if it was real or a prop, as he responded, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle. Please call me Michael. I appreciate your taking the time to meet with me."

"I'm always happy to meet with anyone who is interested in the symposium. Are you in town for business or pleasure?"

Reining in his wayward thoughts which had already turned to pleasure, he responded to the note of challenge in her voice, "I'm here for the symposium. If pressing business should come up in the mean­time, I will deal with it, but that is not why I'm here."

Satisfied, she nodded. "I'm glad to hear it." She smiled suddenly and he was surprised at how that simple change transformed her from ordinary to beautiful. "I think if I had to fight in this ridiculous dress, I'd probably trip over myself and end up taking my own head."

He laughed at the image, and she noted with approval that it was a pleasant sound. The boyish smile that remained on his lips when he finished caused another flutter of attraction to pass through her. Smiling gently at him she suggested, "Perhaps we could continue our discussions in the café. There is much to be done to prepare for the symposium and we would welcome any help you are willing to give."

They lunched in the café and discussed the symposium. The conversation was relaxed and the attraction between them con­tinued to grow as the hours passed. Conversation turned to their travels and experiences, and they discovered they had visited many of the same places, albeit many years apart. As night began to fall, they walked arm in arm down the promenade laughing and talking as the golden rays of the sun disappeared beneath the distant sea. The rhythm of the breaking waves created a soothing background to their discussion, which lasted late into the evening.

-----

As Methos held her that night he felt a sense of belonging he had not known in a very long time. Being with her seemed so right, as if all his long life had been a prelude to this moment.

Lying in his arms, Maura felt a sense of peace and oneness that had eluded her for a long time. Like the peaceful moment on the promenade before she felt his presence, it would probably not last very long, but she would savor it while it did. She had not realized how truly alone she felt until she had looked into his eyes. It had been so long since she had allowed herself to care about anyone, or to be with anyone. The specter of Grayson overshadowing her life had made loving anyone too dangerous.

She lay awake for a long time after he had fallen asleep, lulled by the rhythm of his breathing and the steady beat of his heart. She wondered how much she could -- or should -- tell him about herself and her real purpose for being there. She didn't know why she trusted him so implicitly, only that her instincts told her he wasn't evil, and those instincts had never steered her wrong. Finally she gave in to the gentle pull of sleep, vowing to resolve her troubling questions in the morning.

----

When Maura woke up he was gone. At first she thought it must all have been a very pleasant dream; but, as she laid her head on his pillow, she could still smell his scent. She closed her eyes briefly and pushed down the dis­appointment that welled up in her. After all, it would be better this way. Her life was much too complicated right now for romantic entanglements and, despite all the time they had spent talking last night, she didn't really know that much about him.

Opening her eyes to glance at the clock on the bedside table, she was horrified to see that it was almost 11 a.m. She was supposed to meet several of the town's leading ladies, including the mayor's wife, for lunch at noon and she didn't know how she would ever get ready in time. Silently berating herself for having been so irresponsible as to oversleep, she rushed to get ready.

-----

Maura was feeling the effects of a relatively sleepless night as she left the luncheon and wished for the hundredth time that she could find a way to get out of the gatherings. Unfortunately, the husbands of the ladies she had been lunching with were officially in charge of the symposium, but they were important men and left it to their wives to do the behind the scenes work. The wives in turn didn't want to be bothered with the details since they were supposed to be on vacation and had been more than happy when Maura offered to do most of the work. Her excuse that she needed something to do to take her mind off her husband, who had been missing in action for over two years, was met with sympathy and understanding; and they had given her almost total control over the entire project, exactly as she had planned, giving her the freedom to place her people where she needed them without questions. The downside, however, was that she had to spend inordinate amounts of time, such as this lunch, filling them in on the details, so they could pretend to their husbands that they were taking care of everything.

Her musing was interrupted by the sudden sense of an Immortal presence, and she looked up to see Michael at the next corner, leaning nonchalantly against the side wall of an ice cream parlor watching her. He had on a fashionable summer suit with a matching hat, and this time he was carrying a walking stick -- one the right size to be hiding a sword. In spite of her annoyance that he had left without saying goodbye, she still felt the attraction. Something in him called to her on a primal level and her body responded. As she neared the corner he stepped out to greet her, doffing his hat gallantly and smiling impishly. She couldn't help smiling back.

"Lovely lady, may I escort you down the promenade on this beauti­ful afternoon," he asked.

"I don't know if I should allow it," she replied primly. "After all people might get the wrong idea."

His crestfallen look tugged at her heart, but she could see the twinkle in his eyes and the smile that played across his lips as he responded, "Oh, I think they'd have the right idea."

She didn't succeed in holding down the blush this time and was very tempted to smack him with her parasol but resisted the urge. Pulling herself to her full height, she continued walking regally down the promenade. "Really Mr. Devereaux, you can be very forward."

Methos stopped and stared at her for a moment, sensing her discomfort, then he started to laugh. Maura cocked her head and looked at him sternly until the laughter finally subsided. His eyes still twinkling, he said innocently, "And to think I went to all the trouble of sneaking out early, trying to save your reputation, and this is the thanks I get."

Maura looked at him assessingly. If that was truly the reason he had left, then she was pleased by his consideration. It troubled her that it mattered so much to her. She had barely known this man 36 hours and already he'd broken through most of the defenses she had built around herself over the years. Trust still came hard -- trust in the genuineness of a man's love and trust that he would not leave or be taken from her. Her heart still ached when she thought of her last lover, a mortal named Thomas, who had been a talented artist but a poor swordsman. She had been out at the local market when Grayson's men had killed him. Even after 50 years she still felt incredible guilt over his death and mourned his loss deeply.

Noticing her sudden preoccupation, Methos took her hand and gently placed it through the crook of his arm. Maura forced the dark thoughts away and smiled gently at him as they walked arm in arm down the promenade.

-----

They settled into a comfortable routine -- nights spent in each other's arms, followed by days spent preparing for the symposium and conversing with the philoso­phers, writers and poets who were beginning to arrive. Word had spread through the intellectual community causing the symposium to grow rapidly from a small local affair to a full-fledged event. While she was pleased that so many people were taking an interest and she enjoyed the intellectual stimulation of interacting with the various guests, Maura was concerned that the size of the gathering was getting beyond her control. She didn't know if her small band would be able protect Delacroix in such a large group. She also didn't know what to do about Michael. The summer had been idyllic so far and she didn't want to break the spell. His reluctance to talk about certain aspects of his life had given her an excuse not to be totally forthcoming with him. Some things were simply too difficult to talk about, especially the time she had spent with Darius. That was a wound that had never totally healed, and she wasn't willing to reopen it now.

But in not telling him about her life with Darius, she had also not told him who she really was and her real reason for being there; and she wasn't sure how much longer she could, or should, hide it from him. If there was going to be a confrontation, Michael had a right to know and to decide whether he wanted to stay or leave. But as the days went by and there were more details to attend to, she kept putting off the discussion to 'a better time.'

-----

Methos was very concerned. The sixth sense that warned him of impending trouble had been sending out stronger and stronger signals the last few days. Of course, he had known from the beginning that there was more to Madeline's presence here than wanting to be involved in the symposium. Although she had professed great inter­est in meeting the intelligentsia who were going to attend, after the first few days she had spent very little time actually interacting with them. She had arranged invitations for him to attend most of the social gatherings, but she had made very few of them herself. He no longer believed her vague excuses about needing to deal with other matters, and he was concerned that she had grown increasingly edgy and distant over the past week. Finally, last night she had said she wouldn't be able to spend much time with him in the coming week because she had "friends" coming in from out of town to help with the symposium – Immortal friends.

He had almost asked her what was wrong several times but had held his tongue at the last minute. If she needed his help, she would have to ask for it. And if things were as bad as his sixth sense was telling him, he wasn't sure what his answer would be. After all, he had managed to live over 5,000 years by avoiding the kind of trouble he felt was coming. He did know he couldn't wait any longer for her to tell him what was going on. It was time to find out for himself.

-----

One week and counting. Maura took advantage of Michael's attend­ance at a dinner for one of the new arrivals to arrange a private conference with her band. Corin, Letho, Marcus and Roland arrived at her house shortly after nightfall. She greeted them warmly even though she was feeling the strain of the role she had to play for them.

Because her mere presence somewhere was enough to provoke Grayson to violence, Corin usually led the small band while she hovered in the shadows and gave him advice. Only rarely did she come out of hiding, and this time she had only done so because there had been no other way to gain the access they needed to control the situation. The fact that Grayson was avidly engaged in one of his petty wars somewhere in the Middle East had also made it worth the risk. But when she was as directly involved as she was this time, the others looked to her as their leader instead of Corin. Leaders sometimes had to make sac­rifices to attain their goals, sacrifices that translated into human lives -- mortal and Immortal alike. Maura didn't want to be responsible for making those sacrifices anymore. There was too much blood on her hands already.

The gold wedding band she wore as a symbol of her responsibility to these men, to Delacroix and the other students, and to Darius himself felt heavy on her finger, as she faced her comrades and began outlining her plans.

-----

Methos hid in the shadows at the edge of the woods behind the house. He was close enough to see who came in and out but not close enough for them to feel his presence if they were Immortals, which he fully expected some of them would be.

He had to admit that Maura had chosen the house well. It was at the end of a cul-de-sac on a small hill that ended at a steep cliff overlooking the sea. The view was spectacular, but the location also made it perfect for receiving unseen visitors. The house was surrounded by a large amount of land that had been liberally planted with trees and shrubs. The view of the front of the house from the few other houses on the road was hindered by the ample foliage, and the back, which could not be seen at all from the neighboring houses, was accessible through the woods or through a private path leading up from the beach. He had no doubt any visitors tonight would come in through the sheltered back. It was the way he had come and gone when they first started seeing each other.

He was proven right when the first visitor came stealthily up the path from the beach a few minutes later. He was a big, solidly built blond man, who looked to be in his early 30's and moved like a man accustomed to battle. Methos had seen him talking to Maura yesterday and she had introduced him as Corin, one of the "old friends" who had come to help out with the symposium. She had not explained any further but he could tell they had known each other a long time from the easy way they spoke with each other. It made him nervous to have another Immortal around, especially one that powerful looking, but Maura had assured him there was no reason to be concerned. He'd accepted her reassurances reluctantly but his concern was growing by the minute.

It continued to grow over the next few minutes as three more men slipped one-by-one out of the shadows. Although of slightly different sizes and builds, they all looked like warriors -- each carried himself like a man who had fought, and won, many battles. If it came down to a fight Methos thought he **might** be able to take them individually, but he'd be in big trouble against more than one.

_What the hell is she involved in that she needs guys like that!_ he thought to himself as he moved slowly up to the side of the house. Not knowing exactly where they were, he had to be careful not to inadvertently move close enough that they would feel his presence. He stopped for a minute and thought about that. The most logical place for them to meet would be the drawing room facing the woods. It was large enough to accommodate them all and there were french doors leading into the gardens in case they needed to make a quick escape. As he made his way down the side of the house, he was relieved to see that those doors had been left open to capture the evening breeze. He would be able to hear them without having to move close enough to alert them of his presence.

-----

The strategy session took over two hours and Maura was exhausted by the time it was over. The staging had been difficult to start with and she and Corin had disagreed about the placement of the men. He felt she was being too conservative, but she was concerned about not losing anyone or having them out of sight too long. In the end she had won the point but there was tension between them.

That tension had exploded once the others left, when Corin asked point-blank what was going on with Michael and whether he would be helping them. He had been angry at her response that she hadn't told Michael anything and that she intended to send him away before the situation escalated. They had argued for over half an hour with Corin insisting that Michael should be told what was going on and given the chance to decide for himself whether he wanted to be involved, while Maura adamantly refused to even consider it.

Thinking about it now, she knew Corin was right, but it didn't matter. As far as she was concerned, having Michael there would be too distracting. She needed to be able to think clearly and she wouldn't be able to do that if she thought he was in danger, so he was going to have to be taken out of the equation.

As she prepared for bed she was secretly relieved Michael hadn't arrived yet. This was supposed to be their last night together before the symposium, but all she wanted to do was lie down and sleep until it was all over. _Let someone else handle it_, her inner voice cried out. _You've done enough_. She slipped under the blanket and closed her eyes. No matter how much she did, it was never enough.

-----

Methos had remained hidden behind some shrubbery across from the open french doors for almost two hours listening to their plans unfold. It had been an enlightening experience. Now he knew who all the players really were and exactly how big the trouble was they were facing. And they would face it alone. There was no way in the world he was getting involved in any of this.

His head was still reeling from the realization of who Madeline really was. When the blond one, Corin, had first called her Maura, he hadn't made the connection. But as he had listened to the plans unfold and put together that they were all connected to Father Darius and were there to protect his student Delacroix, it had finally come back to him. He had briefly visited Paris almost 20 years after Darius had first left there. Still troubled by his own bad memories from his days as one of the Four Horsemen, he had been curious when he heard the stories of Darius and his miraculous trans­forma­tion from warlike general to peace-loving monk. A few townspeople who remembered the arrival of the army and Darius' subsequent move to the monastery had shared their gossip with him. Among the stories had been one of a beautiful young woman who had ridden into battle by Darius' side. The old woman who told him the story had said the woman was Darius' wife, and her name was Maura. Now Darius' wife was here and she and her little band were preparing to defend against an assault by Darius' greatest enemy.

Methos walked down to the beach pensively, not ready to go back to the house and face Maura until he'd had time to absorb all he had heard and decide how best to frame his sudden departure. He wandered the beach aimlessly most of the night, and, when he finally sat down to rest near dawn, the soft pounding of the surf lulled him to sleep.

----

Maura was numb. Even though it wasn't yet noon and she still had many things to do, she had decided to go home. Walking the mile to her house would also give her time to think. She walked slowly, trying to let the news and all of its implications sink in. He had to have gone totally insane. That was the only logical explanation. He had to know how dangerous it was for him to come here -- dangerous for him, for her and for anyone else in the area. Those thoughts had been whirling around in her head ever since the mayor's wife had announced with obvious delight that a cable had come from Francois Delacroix announcing that his mentor Father Darius had agreed to accompany him to the sympos­ium.

All of her carefully laid plans were out the window. As soon as Grayson found out she and Darius were in the same place, he would drop whatever he was doing to come deal with the situation personally. With modern transportation and Grayson's large supply of ready cash, he could easily make the trip from the Middle East in less than five days. Then there would be a bloodbath.

She could leave, of course, but where would that leave everyone else? She couldn't let Corin and the others face this alone. And she knew if she told them to leave, they wouldn't go. Corin was devoted to Darius and would rather die than see him harmed, and the others were just as dedicated.

To make matters worse, Michael had never come home last night. Memories of finding Thomas dead with all his paintings smashed and strewn around the body had flitted through her mind when she woke up in the middle of the night alone. She had gone downstairs with a heavy heart expecting to find Michael's body in one of the rooms. Not finding it had not eased her apprehension at all, especially when Leslie Chian had cornered her this morning to tell her how disappointed they all were that he had missed the dinner the night before.

She berated herself for not warning him of the danger sooner. If he had been killed, it would be more innocent blood on her hands. And if he was still alive, why hadn't he come? The questions swirled around in her head. She desperately wished she could talk to him. She was ready to tell him the whole truth and ask for his advice. She still didn't want him staying for the confrontation, but he had a sharp mind and might be able to help her come up with a plan that would keep them all from getting killed.

-----

When Methos woke up on the beach it was mid-morning. He had a pounding headache and an aching heart. Madeline -- Maura he silently corrected himself -- should have left the house by now. He would go back, pack up the things he had left there and leave. Maybe he'd leave her a note about some pressing business taking him away, maybe not. He'd see how he felt when he got there.

As he packed his things, the headache fueled his anger that she had put him in this difficult position. He didn't want to leave her to face the situation alone, but he didn't like being left hung out to dry either. The people she was dealing with were dangerous and she didn't have the right to keep him in the dark about that.

Stepping out onto the porch with his bag, he saw Maura walking slowly up the driveway, hunched over as if the weight of the world was on her small shoulders. She didn't notice him until she moved close enough to feel his Immortal presence, then she looked up apprehensively. He stood staring impassively at her as she hurried up the driveway, a look of relief washing over her face. He saw the relief fade to sadness as she registered his controlled expression and the bag in his hand. She came slowly up the steps to the porch and stopped a few feet from him. After a moment of awkward silence she said softly, "I'm glad to see you're all right. I was concerned when you didn't come last night."

All the things he wanted to say tumbled around inside his head but finally he forced out, "I found out something yesterday that concerned me and I needed some time to think about it. I'm sorry to miss the symposium, but I have some pressing business I must take care of elsewhere."

She nodded her head sadly and responded, "Of course. I understand. These things can't be helped." She couldn't bring herself to ask if he would be coming back because she already knew the answer from the expression on his face. Instead, she added, "You should keep your sword handy as you travel. There have been reports of other Immortals in the area."

'Reports of other Immortals in the area.' He almost laughed at the understatement as he struggled with his warring emotions -- alternately wanting to yell at her for keeping the truth from him and to take her in his arms to kiss away the strain that was apparent in her face. Something else had obviously happened, something very bad.

She stood quietly facing him, watching impassively as traces of the warring emotions flickered across his face. Finally, in a very con­trolled voice, he asked, "What's wrong?"

She sighed and responded dejectedly, "It would take too long to explain. And since you have to leave anyway, it really doesn't matter. I'll deal with it."

He fumed at her stubbornness, and, turning to leave, said coldly, "Very well, Maura. If that's the way you want to leave it, I wish you well."

It took a moment for Maura to absorb that he had called her by her real name and, as it sank in, tendrils of cold seeped through her. As he went down the steps, she regained control of her warring emotions and said icily, "It seems you have the advantage over me, sir. Do I at least get to know who you really are?"

He stopped at the bottom of the steps and, turning to face her, responded just as coldly, "I am called Methos."

The name seemed to echo and reecho in her mind as she grabbed for the porch railing to steady herself. It couldn't be possible. Distant memories warred with each other as she tried to maintain her control. The memory that finally won out over the others was of herself and her friend Cassandra sitting in a field where they had gone to collect medicinal plants and herbs 15 centuries ago. Cassandra was trying to explain why she had to leave and had finally admitted that she could not stay because being in the camp reminded her too much of her captivity with the Four Horsemen. When Cassandra had finished her terrible story, Maura had vowed that if she ever met any of the men who had harmed her friend, she would kill them. Now that vow was being tested.

Methos watched with concern as Maura's face went totally white and she reached for the porch railing. He almost went back up the steps to catch her, so sure was he that she was going to faint, but slowly the color began to return to her cheeks. He was glad he had restrained the impulse when she said emotionlessly, "If you truly are who you say you are, then it is best that you leave right now. You did great harm to a friend of mine many years ago, and I cannot be responsible for what happens to you if you choose to stay."

He was shocked to realize it was a challenge. If he decided to stay she meant to fight him. Whether she really could or would kill him was another question entirely, but looking at the strain evident on her pale face, he was not going to push the matter. He had caused harm to a great many people in his long lifetime, so he had no doubt her friend really existed. Who it was didn't really matter, so without another word he turned and strode quickly down the driveway.

When he was finally out of sight, Maura lowered her badly shaking body into the glider -- the glider where they had sat so many nights looking out at the stars. She pressed her eyes shut against the memory. It wasn't possible that he was the same man who had hurt Cassandra so badly. A person that evil could never change -- could they? Her sixth sense about people had never failed her before. How could she have been so wrong about this man? How could she have believed she loved him? The memory of Cassandra slipped back into her mind -- talking about what those men did to her was the only thing that had ever made her cry.

Maura sat rocking in the glider for a long time, unwilling to even try to move. It took Corin's concerned voice to break through the blanket of her misery. "Maura, are you all right?"

She smiled halfheartedly at the absurd question. She very much wanted to say 'No Corie, I'm not all right. I haven't been all right in 1400 years and I don't expect to be all right any time soon.' But that wouldn't be fair to him. He had no idea what he had walked into -- no idea at all.

"As soon as I heard about Darius, I went right over to the hotel to see you. When Leslie said you left before lunch and hadn't come back, I thought Grayson's people had gotten you."

She was touched by the genuine concern in his voice. "I needed some time to think, so I decided to come home," she responded neutrally.

Corin watched her steadily, knowing something was wrong, but unable to invade her privacy to ask. He didn't want to push her, but they were running out of time very quickly, so finally he said tentatively, "I'm sorry about our argument last night. Have you decided what you're going to do about your friend?"

Tears stung her eyes as she responded in the same neutral voice, "It doesn't matter any more. He had to leave this morning to take care of an urgent business matter."

Corin's eyes flashed with anger and he restrained the urge to utter a curse. He was not blind and he knew that there had to be more to Michael's leaving than she was telling, but again it was not his place to invade her privacy. If she wanted to talk about it she would.

They were silent for several minutes as she rocked in the glider and he stood watching her. Finally, she seemed to pull herself together and in a stronger voice asked, "Why is Darius coming here?"

Corin was speechless for a moment. "I don't know," he finally responded. "Elisa Charbonne said it was because Delacroix asked him to come for morale support."

Maura gave him the look of a teacher very disappointed in her favorite student, "Do you really think that's the reason?"

Corin shifted his weight uncomfortably and, thinking about it for a moment, responded, "No. He knows you're here and he has to know how dangerous it is for him to be here too. He wouldn't risk all of our lives just because Delacroix needs someone to hold his hand."

Maura nodded in agreement. "So the big question is still 'why is he coming here'. Until we know the answer, we can't even begin to plan how we're going to protect him."

Corin looked at her intently. "We?"

"Yes, 'we,'" she replied.

"Maura, you can't stay here. It's too dangerous. As soon as Grayson finds out you're both here, he'll drop everything and . . . ."

They looked at each other with dawning comprehension. "What's he been doing, Corie. What has he been up to that Darius is so anxious to stop him, he'd put all our lives in danger?"

"The last time I heard, he was trying to take over a small country in the Middle East. I've been too busy keeping an eye out for his henchmen around here to keep track of what he's doing there."

"Take the time Corie. We won't be able to figure out exactly what Darius is up to until we know what Grayson is doing that's provoking him."

Corin was relieved to see that working on the problem at hand seemed to have diverted Maura from whatever was upsetting her. She got up suddenly and said, "I need to freshen up, then I'm going back to town for the Charbonnes' dinner. Let me know as soon as you find out anything. Let the others know we'll be meeting here tomorrow night at 8:00 to figure out what to do next."

-----

When Maura returned from the dinner she was worn out. It had been a strain having to smile while answering all the questions about where Michael had gone so suddenly. Corin was waiting on the porch for her and his expression was grave.

"What did you find out?" she asked without preamble.

"Can we go inside first?" he responded, glancing around nervously.

She looked at him curiously, but led him to the drawing room. He refused the drink she offered as he paced the room agitatedly. "I got word less than an hour ago that Grayson and his mercenaries launched a major offensive against a tiny principality in the Middle East called Iridakh. The defense forces had been pretty successful in holding him off until last week, but their lines finally broke and his forces began marching for the palace, killing everyone that got in their way." He paused for a moment, then continued with difficulty, "Four days ago they overran a refugee camp, butchering almost 500 women and children and burning the entire camp to the ground."

"Oh, my God," Maura murmured, her hands clenched in her lap. It was horrible, but Grayson had done similar things and others even worse over the years. It wasn't enough to explain why Darius had suddenly decided to do this insane thing. There had to be more. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind of distractions the way Cassandra had taught her so long ago. Thinking of Cassandra brought thoughts of Michael, but she chased them away and let her mind roam freely.

Suddenly Maura's eyes flew open and she whispered, "Oh, my God," again. She jumped up from her seat and almost ran to the table where she had put their maps, floor plans and other documents. Pulling an atlas from the pile, she leafed through it until she came to the page showing the border between the Middle East and Europe. Word­lessly she handed the book to Corin who looked at it confusedly. His eyes widened as he finally located Iridakh. "It can't be," he murmured.

"But it is," she responded.

**FLASHBACK: Principality of Kapul - 434 A.D.**

Maura paced back and forth in agitation. If only she could get her hands on a sword, she would wipe the smirks off their faces for good. She still couldn't believe she'd been stupid enough to allow herself to be captured.

Looking for new sources of treasure to finance his dream of conquering Europe, Darius had turned his army eastward to move against some of the smaller Middle Eastern nations. After their stunning victories against neighboring principalities, the sultan of Kapul had sent an envoy requesting terms for a peaceful surrender. It had come at a good time as their warriors needed a few days to rest and recover before having to engage in battle again.

Maura had welcomed the lull as an opportunity to look for new herbs and medicinal plants to supplement their dwindling stores, and had set out eagerly to explore this new land, with three servants to help collect the plants and the two guards that Darius had insisted accompany them. It was a tribute to his confidence in the treaty with the sultan that neither of those guards was Immortal. They had been less than 15 minutes from camp when the attack occurred. It had been swift and decisive with her guards barely having time to raise their weapons before they were killed. Drawing her own weapon quickly, she had managed to hold off two attackers for several minutes until she was struck on the head from behind. She had lost con­sciousness for several minutes and woken to find herself being put on a horse with her hands bound securely behind her. Luckily her clothing and manner had distinguished her as someone of importance who should be brought to the sultan, so no one attempted to harm her further.

It had taken a full day for the small caravan to reach the sultan's palace, a grandiose structure with ornate carving. She was in no mood to be impressed as she was dragged into the building. Her first audience with the sultan had not gone well. She had refused to say anything at first, being unable to understand the language he was speaking. She was a fast learner but had not had enough exposure to comprehend the complex language yet. When she had looked at him blankly for several minutes, he had switched languages until he found one she could under­stand. She had initially been impressed that he could speak several languages but once she understood his words she quickly became dis­gusted.

"It seems the great and mighty Darius we keep hearing so much about isn't even smart enough to send his women out with a proper escort." He assessed her openly as a titter of laughter erupted from his courtiers. She stared defiantly into his eyes, refusing to respond to the dig. Amused by her defiance, he stood and moved closer, then walked around her to assess her from every angle. "Yes, I think you'll do quite nicely." At her questioning look, he smiled with amusement and explained, "I think you will make an excellent addition to my harem. I look forward to experiencing the pleasures you must have given the 'mighty' Darius. I'm sure he'll miss you, but I imagine he has plenty of other women to fulfill his needs."

"Never!"

He laughed again. "You have no choice in the matter. You will do as I say, when I say it. And if you wish to live, you had better learn to please me very quickly. I am easily bored."

Maura pulled herself to her full height, and with emerald eyes blazing fire announced in her strongest voice, "I am Maura, wife of Darius, and I shall submit to no one but my husband."

There had been stunned silence in the court at her announce­ment. For anyone, especially a woman, to speak that way to the sultan was punishable by death, but she refused to back down.

He had finally responded in an icy voice, "Well, Maura, wife of Darius, it seems you have little choice in the matter as you are the prisoner and I am the jailor, and your illustrious husband seems to be missing altogether."

She had responded just as coldly, "He **will** come for me, then **you** will be the one to submit."

He had struck her across the face then, hard enough to make her fall. With her hands still tied behind her back she was unable to defend herself, but she immediately picked herself up from the floor and faced him again, the same fire blazing from her eyes. He had laughed again and dismissed her saying, "Take her to the women's quarters and make sure she is dressed appropriately for her new role. Tell the women to instruct her as to my needs. I will send for her when I am ready." Then he had waved his hand in dismissal and she had been dragged off.

That had been more than a day and a half ago and she had been stuck in her own personal idea of hell since then. The other women existed to serve the sultan -- it was their only purpose for living and most of them seemed happy, even grateful, for their place in the pecking order. She had been stripped of her old clothing, bathed and dabbed with fragrant perfumes and oils and forced to put on the most degrading outfit she could ever imagine, consisting of a bunch of skimpy veils, with one of the sultan's devoted young wives trying to teach her how she was supposed to dance while discarding them. As if that would ever happen!

The only positive was that, with the girl's help, she had begun to pick up the language and could now under­stand most of the con­ver­sations being held around her. Unfortunately, they seemed to consist mostly of arguments about who was the sultan's favorite, whose child was next in line for the throne and how Maura's presence would affect the pecking order.

Her musing was interrupted by the opening of the main door. She was startled by the sense of an Immortal presence and dismayed to see that it came from another of the long line of old women, covered up from head to toe, who had been sent over the past day to drill her about the sultan's expectations when she was led to his bed. Well, they would all be unpleasantly surprised if the sultan ever tried to touch her. She didn't care if it meant losing her head, she would **never** submit to him.

Her trepidation turned to fascination as she watched the old woman cross the room. She was hunched over, yet still seemed taller than normal, and she moved more agilely and purposefully than the others who had come. A smile hovered at Maura's lips as a suspicion formed in her mind. When the 'woman' looked at her, all Maura could see was the eyes -- but it was enough. They were gray-green and sparkling with amuse­ment as they assessed her.

Darius. She almost said it out loud but restrained herself just in time. She followed his amused gaze to the skimpy veils barely covering her body and felt a blush rising on her cheeks. Putting her hands on her hips, she chided warmly, "It's about time you got here."

He crossed the room to her quickly and, pulling the covering from his face, swept her up in his arms and kissed her passionately. A thrill of pleasure went through her at his touch. Then he released her and, reaching inside the bulky covering, pulled out two swords. As he handed one to her, he glanced at her body again and murmured, "I don't know, it looks like my timing is perfect from here." She rolled her eyes at him, then smiled with pleasure as she hefted the familiar weight of the blade.

The sultan's wives had stood in stunned silence at Darius' sudden appearance, but finally the spell was broken and they began to scream. As one woman tried to run for the door, Maura grabbed her by the hair and threw her to the floor. Placing her blade at the woman's throat she said angrily to her in her own language, "I'd advise you to stay down unless you want the sultan to become a widower." Then she looked up at the others and added, "That goes for the rest of you too." There were several terrified nods as the doors suddenly burst open and guards began pouring into the room.

The element of surprise was on their side so the first few men to come through the door went down quickly. Maura was amazed watching Darius, who was like a whirlwind, savagely thrust­ing and chopping at anyone who came within striking distance. He was hit several times himself but didn't even seem to feel the blows. Blood flowed freely where enemy blades had made contact, but none were serious and they began healing almost as soon as they had been made.

The guards were concentrating on Darius, leaving Maura free to attack from the rear. The one advantage of the flowing veils was that they were lightweight and didn't interfere with her movements. As she attacked, the confused guards didn't know what to do. She was supposed to be the sultan's latest wife so they hesitated to strike her until it was too late. She had no qualms about taking advantage of their confusion and struck them down as quickly and efficiently as possible. Finally realizing that she was a danger, one young man broke off and faced her directly. Delighting in the freedom to finally strike back at her captors, she drove him back savagely. He was surprised by her skill and made the fatal mistake of not realizing when the wall came up behind him. Trapped, he fell under her swiftly moving blade.

Returning to the fray, she struck another guard in the back. He turned toward her, a monster of a man she noted with apprehension, and seeing her small figure, he laughed and struck at her with his heavy sword. She surprised him by blocking the blow, although the force of his massive frame behind it almost knocked her off her feet. Before she could recover her balance, his other arm came out weaponless and backhanded her. The power of the blow sent her body crashing against an ornately carved chest, and she heard a loud cracking sound. White hot fire spread through her left side, but she forced down the pain, gripping her sword tightly, as she struggled back to her feet. The look of satisfaction on the guard's face turned to stunned surprise and he suddenly looked down. Maura followed his gaze to the sword point sticking out of his chest. She watched dispassionately as his body fell forward, revealing Darius behind him.

She smiled at her husband reassuringly, and he quickly pulled his sword out of the inert body and turned to survey the area. The wave of guards entering the room had ceased, and bodies of the dead and dying were scattered everywhere. The sultan's wives were huddled against the walls sobbing in terror. Not knowing if an alarm had been raised throughout the palace, Darius and Maura quickly left the room and moved carefully down the maze of corridors toward the outside.

Maura's presence was comforting in a way Darius had not fully appreciated until she was gone. He stole a quick glance at her and couldn't help smiling. She was so incredibly beautiful, with the cling of the filmy veils highlighting the gentle curves of her body, and she seemed so vibrantly alive, her emerald eyes flashing with quiet deter­mination. Down another corridor and he could see the passageway leading outside. Hearing the sounds of shouting and pounding feet somewhere behind them, he stepped up the pace. Maura followed him without question, trusting that he knew exactly what he was doing. As they reached the end of the passage he quickly removed the woman's covering he was still wearing and wrapped it around her. She was annoyed at the way it limited her movement but recognized she could not leave the palace dressed as she was -- it would give them away immediately. Since he still had on some men's clothing he had stolen earlier, as they slipped out of the shadows they looked like two simple peasants doing their errands.

-----

Maura's heart didn't begin to slow down until they had been riding for almost an hour. As the adrena­line rush subsided, the pain from her injury returned and she was seized by an uncontrollable trembling. Darius' arms tightened around her, pressing her into the warmth and safety of his body, but it didn't ease the trembling. She had been so afraid. She couldn't ever tell him exactly how afraid, but she had been afraid. Not of the sultan -- he was a mortal man and she would have dealt with him in whatever way was necessary. No, she had been terrified that if she were forced to stay there long enough she might turn into one of the stupid, vapid creatures that inhabited the sultan's harem.

Ever since her first rebirth Darius had treated her as an equal. Her opinion had always mattered to him and she was able to speak freely on almost any subject. She couldn't imagine living in a world where her opinion was meaningless, where she wasn't supposed to use her brain and where her only asset of any value was her body. To her such a world was a prison that would destroy her spirit forever. She couldn't help thinking how happy she would be when they burned the cursed place to the ground. She never wanted to see it again as long as she lived.

They rode straight through the day and night with only short breaks to allow the horse to rest and drink. Maura felt too sick to eat anything but Darius forced her to drink, concerned about dehydration in the cloying heat. The fits of trembling came and went periodically throughout the long ride and occasionally she slept fitfully in his arms. Darius was exhausted but refused to rest until she was safely back in camp and his forces had been dispatched to deal with the sultan.

At last, they reached the final rise leading to the camp and could hear the sentries announcing their arrival. Maura was awestruck as they topped the rise and she saw the mass of warriors already lining up, preparing to move out. She had become so used to the routine of the camp that she had never really looked at their army through the eyes of other people. No wonder there were some who simply fell at their feet. In the bright sunlight, the glint of metal from swords, shields and helmets made the men appear otherworldly, almost like gods. As the horse started down the hill, all heads turned to face them and they were greeted with exultant cheers. Maura's fear subsided as she allowed the joyous welcome to envelope her in a cocoon of safety.

Darius brought the horse to a halt in front of the command tent and slid lightly from its back. He reached up to lift Maura down from the horse and noticed her tighten the heavy covering around her. Of course she didn't want anyone seeing her dressed like that. Aside from how provocative the outfit was, it might give some people the wrong idea -- that he had been too late to save her from the sultan. Determined to squelch that idea before the rumors started, he gently eased her to the ground, then immediately wrapped his arms around her and kissed her passionately as he held her against him. Another, more exuberant round of cheering started, and he smiled happily as he held her against him.

Her servant Lani was standing anxiously by waiting to sweep her off to bed, but there was one more thing Maura had to do first. As Darius released her from his embrace and signaled for Lani to come take her, Maura shook her head determinedly and, stepping away from him, pulled her sword and held it high in the air in front of her. Grayson smiled with delight at her temerity and quickly raised his own sword to join hers. Darius quickly brought his own sword up to com­plete the good luck ritual that had begun every engagement for many years. He looked at his wife, open admiration shining from his eyes, as the men behind them began cheering wildly again.

When they lowered their swords Maura felt the combined effects of ex­haustion, hunger and her injury begin to take hold. She forced herself to walk toward the tent, focusing on making it there unaided without falling. Lani came up beside her and she quickly handed the girl her sword which now felt like a dead weight in her hands. It took all of her concentration, but she made it into the tent before her legs buckled under her. Lani caught her as she began to fall and helped her to the pile of sleeping furs in the corner.

Watching her move carefully toward the command tent, Darius felt the rage that had been building in him reach boiling point. Her courage and strength in spite of all that had happened still amazed him. His eyes blazed with fire as he turned to Grayson and said with barely suppressed fury, "I'm staying here for a few hours to make sure Maura is all right. I should catch up with you by morning. If I don't, take the men and destroy it all. I don't want anyone or anything left standing. Do you understand?"

Grayson nodded gravely and replied, "It will be my great pleasure. What do you want done with the sultan?"

Darius' eyes glittered with hatred as he responded, "Torture him as much as you like but make sure he's still alive when I get there."

Grayson's face darkened at the extent of Darius' rage and he asked coldly, "Did he harm her?"

Darius understood the implication of the question and responded forcefully, "No, but he will suffer the agonies of hell for even con­sidering it."

Satisfied, Grayson mounted his horse and led the army toward the distant palace as Darius returned to the tent.

----

Maura knew she was dying. She had not told Darius how serious the injury was, but she thought at least two ribs were broken. The long ride back had not helped matters and she suspected that one of the broken ribs had punctured a lung. It didn't matter. She was safe now and if she did die, she would wake up in her own tent totally healed -- she hoped.

It was amazing how hard it was to let go of life even when you knew you would be coming back very shortly. Every time it happened she struggled until her last breath, afraid that this time whatever god had made them the way they were would suddenly change its mind and de­cide not to grant another life. And she wasn't ready to let go of this one yet.

Her eyes wanted desperately to close, but she had to prepare him before it was too late. She heard him enter the tent and then he was beside her, taking her in his arms. She looked up at him sadly and whispered, "I have to leave you for a little while, my love, but I'll be back soon."

He felt the tears on his face as he responded gently, "You'd better hurry, darling, I can't wait for you to show me what you're supposed to do with those veils while you're dancing."

She smiled softly and her eyes started to close again. Before drifting away, she whispered softly, "Destroy the accursed place, I don't ever want to see it again."

"Don't worry," he replied gently, "it's being taken care of."

Satisfied, she finally gave up the struggle and her eyes closed in sleep. Pain racked Darius as he listened to her labored breathing. Three hours later it finally stopped and she was still. Darius allowed the grief to overwhelm him; even knowing she would wake up again was no consolation for watching her suffer so.

Before Darius' need for vengeance was sated, over 5,000 people were dead. His force had not stopped at the palace, but had slaughtered every person within a few miles radius -- including women and children -- and burned every structure to the ground. The principate was to be an example to any other that dared challenge the might of Darius and his army or tried to take what was his.

Maura still remembered the smell of burning buildings and bodies that had permeated the area for days. The stench had reached all the way back to camp and made her nauseated on top of everything else. But when the carnage was over she had insisted on taking her custom­ary place at Darius' side as they rode through the ruins. It had been satisfying in some ways, especially seeing the hated palace burned to the ground, but it had also been harder than she'd expected to see the deserted, decimated villages.

Corin's voice brought her back to the present, "As we burned the palace down, Grayson vowed that nothing would ever be allowed to stand there again. I guess he meant it."

Maura nodded numbly, but she wasn't thinking of Grayson, she was thinking of Darius. She couldn't help but wonder what Father Darius thought about what the warrior Darius had done all those long years ago. If Iridakh had really been built on the site of Kapul and Grayson was reenacting its destruction, Darius would be devastated by the loss of innocent lives for no good reason -- which would be the best reason she could think of for him to risk his life, and theirs, to draw Grayson away from the place. She, Corin and the others in their small band had been there, too, and each had to take a share in the responsibility for all those deaths so long ago. And each of them would have to decide if it were worth staying and fighting for. Maura already knew her own answer.

She took a piece of paper and began drawing rough sketches -- the symposium room where Delacroix was supposed to speak, the large hotel dining room where Delacroix and Darius were supposed to attend an honorary dinner afterwards, the possible routes their coach could take to and from the events. Artistic endeavors had always been a release for Maura, and the sketching freed her mind to consider which areas were most vulnerable to attack by Grayson's forces. The answer was disheartening -- depending on the size of his force, every area was vulnerable. And the biggest variable of all was whether Grayson intended to follow the rule that Immortal combat was not for mortal eyes or whether he intended to take them in plain view and kill anyone who might be unfortunate enough to witness the aftermath.

-----

Darius sighed as Francois Delacroix shifted nervously in the seat beside him. Delacroix was one of the brightest students he had ever had, but traveling with him was like traveling with an overactive child. The young man was filled with nervous energy and had a hard time sitting still for long periods of time.

The train trip had been uneventful so far. It was 4:00 p.m. on the afternoon before the symposium was officially supposed to begin and they still had two more hours to go before they reached their destination. From there a coach would take them to their lodgings to freshen up, then the whirlwind of activity would begin.

From what Darius had been hearing, the symposium was becoming a full fledged "event" with intelligentsia flocking in from all over France. Most of those in attendance would be from the upper classes who traditionally com­manded the armies and therefore had the most to gain in property and wealth from the wars Delacroix spoke out against. His young student was definitely going to get his proverbial trial by fire. Darius just hoped the fire remained proverbial as visions of Grayson and Kapul drifted back to haunt him.

Thinking about Kapul made him pensive. Darius knew that many who had been in Paris at the time considered his conversion to the priesthood to be a punish­ment for past crimes. They couldn't be more wrong. It had been a gift from God -- a chance to redeem himself for horrors like Kapul and to help others who had also fallen along the way. His faith was an oasis of peace in the midst of his true punishment, which in the beginning had been far worse than anyone could imagine -- being without Maura. Knowing he would have to spend the rest of his life without her, unable even to talk to her, let alone hold her or make love to her -- that was the true punishment for his crimes.

He regretted more than anything that he had been the one to bring her that legacy of violence. He had been her teacher in all things and had been the one to encourage her to learn to fight. And he had been so proud that she had become adept at it. Sadness filled his heart as he remembered her sweet innocence that first day when she had first opened her eyes and looked into his. He had changed her into a warrior and there was no way to go back. It had seemed necessary to her survival at the time, but he no longer knew if it had been for the best. He only knew that after his transformation in Paris her only hope was to be set free to find her own path.

Under other circumstances he might have tried to maintain some kind of relationship with her, but as long as Grayson was still alive, she would be in grave danger whenever Darius was near her. It had taken that last terrible meeting with Grayson at the monastery to make Darius realize how truly dangerous the man really was, and he was heartsick that he had been responsible for unleashing such a monster on the world. His only consolation was that Maura had also seen what Grayson really was and that had kept her from remaining with the army – and with Grayson. Darius knew in his heart that if she had gone with Grayson, she would have been lost forever.

Darius thanked God every day that she had instead gone off on her own to explore the world. He had found comfort in Corin's reports of her thirst for learning, her talent for music and the time she devoted to working with children and the less fortunate. But he had grieved at the pain and loss she'd had to endure because of Grayson's vindictiveness. As the years went by, he had never stopped missing her or wondering how things might have been different if there had been no Grayson. If only they could have been a simple mortal couple and had a simple life with children of their own. But that was not to be, it was not part of God's plan for them.

He opened his eyes, hoping the light of day would sweep out the sad thoughts that blanketed his mind like a fine layer of dust. He knew his plan was putting her life in danger, but he had no other choice. He still could not think of the events in Iridakh without weeping bitterly for all those who were dying for an ancient vendetta. Grayson was truly insane and the only way Darius could think to divert him was to put his own life on the line. If it would stop Grayson's massacre or even postpone it long enough to allow more of the innocents to escape, then he would gladly give his own head. He hoped Maura and the others had the good sense to get out before the confrontation began, but he was worried they would stay, trying to defend him, when that would only escalate the situation. He wanted Maura to hold out to the last minute to draw Grayson into the web and then disappear, but he was not confident she would retreat this time. And if there was a confrontation between them, there was no question one of them would die this time. Even if Maura were the one to live, what would that Quickening do to her?

Darius had learned the hard way what the Quickening of an ancient Immortal could do. Grayson wasn't that much older than Maura but the evil in him was strong. Not even Maura's love had been enough to keep the power Darius had held from corrupting him. Kapul was proof of that. It had taken Brother Francis to save him before the darkness could claim him totally. Now he had to find a way to save her too without it meaning her death.

Delacroix shifted uncomfortably in the seat beside him again and this time Darius felt slightly guilty at his preoccupation during most of the trip. He decided it was time to leave his melancholy thoughts behind, and the look of gratitude on the younger man's face when Darius asked if he wanted talk promised a long discussion that would keep his mind off his troubles for awhile.

-----

Maura paced the lobby of the hotel nervously. Delacroix and Darius were due to arrive soon and she couldn't decide whether she should stay with Mayor and Madame Charbonne to greet them or beg off citing one of the many duties she still had to perform. It would be an excuse because right now everything was exactly as it should be. Caterers, room set ups, seating -- all of it had been checked and rechecked with the hotel -- and she had handpicked the wait staff and support staff for all the events, making sure her band were the only Immortals among them. That was no guarantee that Grayson hadn't recruited mortals for this mission, but she had relied on her instincts when speaking to each person and anyone she felt the least nervous about had been delegated to duties as far out of the main areas as possible.

Now all that was left to do was wait and see how Grayson chose to play his hand. She had met with her small force every night since news of Darius' impending arrival had reached them, going over all the scenarios they could think of for Grayson's appearance, possible routes to get Darius and Delacroix out of the building on short notice, how to protect the mortals if Grayson decided on a public assault; and what to do about a public Quickening.

While Delacroix was slated to stay the entire week of the symposium, Darius was only supposed to be there for a little more than 24 hours, arriving at the hotel with Delacroix around 6:00 this evening in time to attend the opening banquet being held by the Charbonnes at their home, then attending parts of the symposium tomorrow before leaving after Delacroix's keynote address at the banquet being held at the hotel tomorrow night. Even so, there were simply too many variables to make a nice simple plan and stick to it. She said a silent prayer for wisdom for her small group if it became necessary to improvise, as the Charbonnes arrived and greeted her.

-----

Methos sat in a tree sullenly surveying the area for possible ambush sites and berated himself for the hundredth time. "I should have learned my lesson a long time ago not to get involved with Immortal women," he muttered as he climbed up to the next branch to get a better look at the area.

He really had intended to leave and, in fact, had gotten on a train and actually traveled for a day and a half before he changed his mind. If he hadn't seen that damned news­paper he might have made it all the way. "This is what I get for trying to be an informed person," he muttered as he surveyed the area from his new perch.

It had been a small article, easily overlooked if he hadn't had such a personal stake in it. But the small headline read "Devereaux to Give Keynote Speech at Symposium," and, curious that it might give some idea of the content of the speech he was going to miss, he had begun reading. He'd had to read the last line several times before all its implications could sink in, "Mr. Devereaux announced yesterday that he will be accompanied to the symposium by his mentor and teacher Father Darius." He had tried to put the paper aside and not think about it, but the words kept echoing through his head.

Now he knew what Maura had been so upset about that last day. He had overheard enough while spying on her little group to know that having Maura and Darius in the same place would almost guarantee a personal appearance by Grayson -- one that most likely would end in a bloodbath. What little he had heard about Grayson over the years had all been bad. He was a madman with no conscious. If he wanted something he would fight for it to the last man, even if it was impossible for him to win. Of course, being an Immortal, he had ended up being the only one to walk away from several such situ­ations. And now Grayson wanted Maura.

Methos had gotten off the train at the next station and found a small café to sit and have a quick meal while he thought things through. Too late he realized the café reminded him of the place where they'd had their first lunch together what seemed like a lifetime ago. When he had finally returned to the train station and walked up to the window, he still hadn't been sure of the destination he was going to request.

Now, here he was, over 5,000 years old, climbing around in trees trying to figure out some way of outwitting the maniac who was bent on destroying the woman he loved. "I'm definitely too old for this," he muttered glumly.

-----

Maura let out a sigh of relief as the coach set off for the train station. Maybe they were going to make it after all. She didn't really believe it, but she could always hope. After all, everything had gone surpris­ingly well so far.

Delacroix and Darius had arrived on schedule, reporting an uneventful trip. In the fuss surrounding their arrival, Maura had slipped away unobserved to keep an eye on things from a distance. Their eyes had met briefly when Darius first came in and that had been more than enough for her to realize she was not a good enough actress to hide the feelings that had welled up inside her. So she had nodded at him in acknowledgment then disappeared into the crowd.

The Charbonnes' dinner was the social event of the season and everyone had a wonderful time. Again, Maura managed to keep herself on the other side of the room from Darius despite several attempts by Elisa to corral her to make introductions. When Delacroix and Darius had finally excused themselves to return to their hotel, Corin had gone with them as escort. He and the others had taken turns standing guard throughout the night while Maura went home to try to get some rest -- she had known there would be no sleep for her that night.

The seminar sessions the following morning and afternoon had been very interesting, with a healthy exchange of ideas by all the partici­pants and very little rancor. Knowing it was the calm before the storm, Maura had felt the tension building as the day wore on. 'When you least expect it, expect it,' was one of Grayson's favorite tactics. He would stay in the shadows until his adversary had let his guard down, then he would strike. Maura had fully expected the attack to occur at the dinner tonight, especially during Delacroix's stirring speech, which was probably why it hadn't.

It was hard not to be swept away by the young man's dedication and passion. She had stolen a quick look at Darius, who was looking at his pupil with obvious admiration. She felt a small stab of jealousy that he had found something as important to do with his life as training peace­makers, while she was still struggling to find a place for herself in the world. Being dogged constantly by Grayson didn't help and she vowed to herself that one day soon he would pay for all he had done. Then she would be free to do something meaningful with her life.

In spite of all their worrying and planning, nothing had happened. Grayson didn't appear, nor did any of his minions, and after the dinner ended, Darius had boarded the coach to go to the train station with Corin and Letho as escort. Despite Darius' protests, Delacroix had insisted on seeing his mentor to the train station.

Maura stayed at the hotel to oversee the clean up and make sure the meeting rooms set aside for the symposium sessions the next day were set up properly -- and of course to worry. The farther apart she and Darius were geographically, the better it should be for everyone, but it was also the time when they were most vulnerable. Her already meager force was divided, leaving both sections weaker, and she was left feeling useless and frustrated at having to rely on others to protect Darius.

There was a sudden flurry of activity at the door and Maura looked up quickly, her heart hammering in her chest. Leslie Chian fluttered in looking excited and out of breath. She came over to Maura, took her hands and said, "Oh, my dear, I have the most wonderful surprise for you. You'll never guess who's here."

Leslie looked so delighted that Maura couldn't stop the stray thought that crossed her mind. _Had Michael come back? No, not Michael -- Methos_, she chided herself. She had to remember that -- and her vow to Cassandra so long ago. She looked apprehensively at the door and felt icy fingers of cold seep through her as Grayson swept into the room, smiling brightly at her. She dimly heard him say, "Madeline, my darling, I've finally found you," before he swept her up in his arms and kissed her passionately on the lips.

She started to pull away from him in disgust, but he leaned very close to her ear and whispered, "Now darling, that's no way to great your long lost husband Philippe is it. Especially when I've done nothing but think of you through our long separation." His eyes glittered evilly as he paused to look at her, and brushing her cheek tenderly, he leaned over and whispered, "You wouldn't want to cause a scene in front of these nice **mortal** people would you?"

There was no way she could miss the threat to those mortals implied in his tone of voice, but he added softly, still with a smile on his face, "I have men stationed at every exit. If I give the word, everyone here dies. You wouldn't want all that blood on your hands now would you?"

She wished she could slap the wolfish grin from his face, but she reined in her fury. He was dangerous and she couldn't afford to under­estimate him, too many lives were in the balance. All she could do was grit her teeth and mutter, "What do you want?" It was a neutral question. Let him decide how to answer it.

As if in answer, he slipped his arm around her waist and turned her to face Leslie who was standing there looking concerned. Grayson directed his most charming smile at her, "My poor dear Madeline is understandably surprised by my sudden reappearance after all these years. I think we need some time alone so we can get reacquainted. I hope you don't mind."

Leslie relaxed and smiled gently. "Of course not. I realize this is a joyous occasion for both of you. I'll be glad to take care of things here while you two spend some time together." She took Maura's hand and smiled reassuringly at her, "Every­thing will be just fine now, my dear, you'll see."

Maura hoped everything would be fine as Grayson hustled her toward the exit. She was being dragged off to almost certain death by a man everyone thought was her husband and, as soon as they were out the door, the room would be buzzing about her affair with Michael and what would happen if her husband found out. Certainly no one would be surprised when they found her body the next day, she mused morbidly. As they walked out the front door, she asked numbly, "Where are we going?"

He smiled serenely and answered smoothly, "I thought we would go to your place and get reacquainted." The note of invitation in the words sent a chill down her spine. His voice turned cold as he continued, "Some friends of mine have gone to fetch Darius back to join us. We'll have a lovely reunion and then I'll fulfill the promise I made to you in Paris."

Her heart almost stopped at the words and the memory flashed quickly through her mind -- her sword at his throat, Darius dragging her off before she could strike, Grayson pulling himself up and vowing that he would get them both and that he'd force her to watch as he took Darius' head. She knew that if they were going to get out of this alive she would have to get control of her turbulent emotions and concentrate. Time was running out quickly.

-----

Methos crouched in the shadow of one of the large old oak trees lining the road. His reconnaissance mission the night before had been very helpful. Knowing that Darius was the key to this entire situation, Methos had come to the unwelcome conclusion that the only way to help Maura was to save her former husband. After that, devising a plan had been easy. Grayson liked to play, that was clear from his history. He would wait until the last minute to strike, when his quarry were at their most vulnerable. The most hazard­ous part of the journey for Darius would be the ride back to the train station in the dark. Maura's force would be split trying to protect both of them, which would instead make them all vulnerable.

So Methos had spent the last day trying to figure out where the ambush was most likely to occur and then arranging some surprises for the attackers. He had placed himself in a sheltered lookout position a little way down the road from the most likely location for the ambush and now all that was left for him to do was wait.

It wasn't long before the sound of a coach coming down the road reached his ears. He gripped his sword tighter in anticipation as he watched the place in the woods where he expected the attackers to emerge. He was not disap­pointed when a few seconds later they appeared -- four armed men on horseback. Two stopped in the middle of the road, blocking the coach's path, while the others moved to either side, ready to take on any guards riding alongside.

Methos sized up the attackers quickly. He was too far away to sense if any were Immortals, but he expected that if any were, they would be the ones on either side, prepared to face the Immortals guarding the coach. He would wait until the fighting started to move closer so the combatants would be too preoccupied with each other to react to the sense of his presence.

Two horses rounded the sharp curve at high speed with the coach whipping around the curve seconds behind them. Such speed was reckless and indicated the driver feared an ambush and was trying to outrun it. He failed miserably as one of the attackers raised a gun and shot him before he could even react to the shock of their presence in the road. One of the others jumped up into the driver's seat as the coach came up beside him and pulled the frightened animals to a stop, before jumping down again.

Suddenly two more horses rounded the curve and the Immortals Corin and Letho bore down on the attackers. They moved to engage the enemies on either side of the coach and within seconds the clank of swords and grunts of exertion filled the air. Methos cautiously began to move closer to the action. Earlier he had taken the opportunity to seed the area with things he might need and he quickly made his way to an old tree stump from which he pulled out a bow and arrows.

Setting his sights on the two men who were advancing on the coach, he let one arrow fly, then another. The first missed its target by a hair but the second struck squarely in the center of the first man's back. As he fell to the ground, the other man swung around quickly with a gun in his hand. Methos dropped behind the stump and slipped deeper into the foliage before he could be seen. The second man continued to scan the woods and, finally realizing he wouldn't find the attacker, headed back toward the coach, ignoring his fallen comrade.

Now that the element of surprise was gone, Methos had to be even more careful. He crept silently to his next cache, keeping an eye on the action as he went. Corin appeared to be besting his opponent, but Letho was being driven back by his. Both of their fights had moved further down the road leaving the coach unprotected. The other attacker had made it to the coach and was trying with little success to pull the door open.

Methos was glad to see that Father Darius wasn't simply going to give up. Any time the priest could buy him would help. Quickly he lit several firecrackers and tossed them toward the road as he sprinted toward the man who had finally grown tired of fighting the door and had raised his gun to shoot it open. The sound of the firecrackers going off and the frightened whinnying of the horses startled the man and he turned toward the sound, giving Methos enough time to come up behind him and plunge a dagger into his back. The man turned toward him, a look of shock on his face, and Methos grabbed the gun out of his hand and smashed him across the side of the face with it.

The sense of an Immortal presence shocked him and Methos quickly slid back into the foliage and dropped down to scan the area. It took him a few seconds to realize the person he had sensed was Father Darius, but he still moved cautiously as he went to see how Maura's allies were holding up.

Letho was on the ground with blood pouring from a gaping wound to his chest. His opponent, a mortal, had raised his sword to deliver the death blow when he was struck from behind by Corin and fell unmoving at his feet. Suddenly a shot rang out and Corin staggered and fell to the ground. As his opponent hefted his sword and moved toward Corin's inert body, Methos aimed an arrow at the arm holding the gun and let it fly. It found its mark and the man dropped the gun with a cry of agony. Methos quickly pulled his own sword and moved in. The man tensed as he sensed the new Immortal presence and quickly turned to face the new threat.

"So, you finally decided to stop sneaking around in the shadows and came out to fight like a man," he sneered.

"I was waiting for it to be worth my while," Methos responded airily, "after all, three heads are better than one."

"And here I thought you were on their side," the man snarled as he circled warily, sword at the ready.

"I believe in every man for himself," Methos responded evenly.

Again the night was filled with the sounds of clashing metal.

-----

The coach pulled up in front of her house, and Maura prepared herself to take advantage of any opportunity to escape. During the short ride she had regained control of her turbulent emotions. She felt like a child who had spent all night cowering under the covers in fear of a monster only to discover by the light of day that the "monster" was a stuffed animal or pile or clothing. While Grayson had hidden in the shadows terrorizing her, he had seemed almost omnipotent and totally unstoppable; but now, remembering how he had sat so stiffly in the coach with his arm wrapped around her, pressing her against him, with a knife against her ribs to keep her there, she could see he was just a man -- a very evil Immortal man -- but still just a man with the same flaws he had always had. Flaws she knew how to exploit.

The hardest thing was knowing she had to act without regard for the others. She had to trust that Corin and Letho would protect Darius and that all of them would get out alive. Corie had been her friend for over 1000 years now and she couldn't imagine having to go on without him. She also wondered what had happened to Roland and Marcus, whom Corin had left at the hotel to protect her and the others. Grayson had swept her out of the hotel so quickly, she hadn't had time to see if they had been captured by his men or if they were still free. Either way, she had to assume they were in no position to help her and that she was on her own for now.

As Grayson pulled her roughly out of the coach and dragged her toward the house, she quickly scanned the area and noted several figures lurking in the dark shadows around the house. They had obviously secured the house, which shouldn't have been difficult since it was empty. Despite her ambivalence about Michael's revelation -- she still couldn't think of him as Methos – she was grateful he had gone before Grayson made his appearance. It was a relief knowing someone she cared about was safe, and she had no doubt what Grayson would have done to him if he had found out about their relationship.

She was brought roughly back to reality as Grayson dragged her into the sitting room and flung her roughly onto the nearest settee. She straightened herself and sat impassively as he stood staring at her. A smile of satisfaction played over his lips as he purred triumphantly, "I've been waiting a long time for this, watching for just the right moment when all I've desired for so long would come to fruition. Now, here you are, just as I always knew you would be."

"I'm here because I don't have any choice, not because I want to be," she responded icily.

He stepped closer and touched her cheek absently, "You are here because I wish it and. . . ," his hand tightened on the side of her face forcing her to look into his eyes as he continued, ". . . you will remain alive only as long as I wish it." His grip loosened and his finger brushed absently against her cheek. "You should think about that before you say another word."

She glared at him defiantly and retorted, "I would rather be dead than spend the rest of my life catering to your whims."

His eyes darkened with anger and he responded tightly, "That is your choice. As soon as Darius gets here we can get this unpleasantness over with and I can return to more important things."

"Like Kapul," she said bitterly.

He smiled wolfishly and responded smoothly, "I'm so pleased you appreciate my little gift to you. After all we went through to bury that wretched place it was very inconsiderate of the locals to try and build it up again. I vowed 1400 years ago that nothing would ever live there again and as you know, I **always** keep **my** promises."

The remark stung as Maura knew it was meant to. Having him so close had opened a Pandora's box of long buried memories -- the three of them toasting each other and vowing eternal friendship; her wedding to Darius when they had vowed to love each and be together as long as they lived; the three of them riding through the ruins of Kapul as Grayson cursed the place and vowed nothing would ever live there again; the terrible day when Darius had released her from their wedding vows, and the equally terrible day when she had found Grayson ready to kill Darius in the monastery and she had come so close to killing him instead -- that twisted wildly like a kaleidoscope through her mind. That he could equate keeping a vow like the annihilation of Kapul with the terrible decision Darius had made to release her from their wedding vows only proved how twisted he really was.

She didn't respond to the dig, only continued to glare silently at him. He returned her gaze steadily and finally shook his head sadly, "I've never understood why you are so angry with me, Maura. All of this is Darius' fault, not mine. If he had not stolen you from me in the first place, we would be ruling the world now."

Her eyes widened and she couldn't restrain the incredulous, "What?" that slipped unbidden from her lips.

He had a faraway look in his eyes as he responded, "Darius once told me that the gods had sent you to him when he asked for a sign, after several difficult battles, that it was their will that he continue on. He said that you were sent to be his queen." His eyes returned to the present and turned intently toward her. "But he was wrong. I was the one who found you. The gods sent you to rule by my side, not his, and they punished him for stealing you from me. And they punished me for letting their gift slip away. But I intend to rectify that now. You will agree to rule with me as the gods have decreed or you will die."

She could only stare at him in shocked silence, unable to think of a response to that incredible statement. The silence was broken by a sudden knock on the door. At Grayson's curt "Come," a severe looking young man stepped into the room and saluted him. Grayson barely acknowledged him, and, walking to the window with his back to the young man, barked, "Report."

The young man frowned but responded, "The perimeter is secure, sir. No one can get in or out without one of us seeing them."

"Is there any sign of the second team yet?"

"Not yet, sir, but they should be back soon."

"Very good. Return to your post."

The young man gave a sullen, "Yes, sir," and turned to go, glaring at Maura as he walked past her and out the door.

Maura was pleased to see the young man's discontent. Dissension in the ranks was just what she needed. Grayson's men were beginning to wonder just what they were doing here kidnapping women and priests instead of being in the Middle East plundering it of its ancient treasures. That was good. Having them off balance and fighting among themselves could only increase her chances of successfully escaping from this situation. She was also relieved that so far she had sensed no other Immortals besides Grayson. Under normal circumstances she hated harming mortals, but she had no qualms about killing these men who had been responsible for such horrible bloodshed in Iridakh. And she felt confident that if it came down to a fight none of them would know to go for her head -- Grayson would never trust a mortal with the knowledge of the only way he could be killed. Things were definitely beginning to look up. The tiniest sprout of a plan was pushing its way into the light. She just needed a little more time to allow it to bear fruit.

-----

It felt like a century, but only half an hour had passed as Maura waited, only half-listening to Grayson's boasting and grandiose plans, biding her time for the opportunity to run. If she could lead Grayson away from his men, she would be able to spring her own little trap on him. So far he had not thought to search her, and the comforting weight of the short sword she wore strapped to her inner thigh helped calm her frayed nerves. The deceptive weight and complexity of design of the skirt she wore hid the fact that it had been made to detach easily in case of trouble. All she needed was enough time to get out of it and get to the sword.

Without warning one of Grayson's men burst into the room. "Sir, you'd better look quickly," he panted as he opened the French doors to the garden and stood pointing to the west. Grayson started for the door, then quickly backtracked, grabbing Maura's wrist and dragging her after him.

The lightning from the Quickening had already faded to an occasional flicker and the distance muted it even further. But they both knew what it had been. Maura felt numb as she closed her eyes and felt for the invisible link. It was still there -- Darius was safe. She could only hope that Corin and Letho were safe as well.

As if reading her mind Grayson mocked, "It looks like one of your little friends won't be coming back."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that if I were you. It could just as easily be one of yours."

He laughed, a harsh bitter sound in the night air, and sneered, "Gareth is one of the best fighters I have ever seen. That's why I brought him with me. He will do anything required to win. Your foolish comrades have no chance against him." He gripped her wrist painfully hard and, looking directly into her eyes, continued coldly, "There's not much longer to wait now, my dear. Gareth should be back here soon with our dear Father Darius. Then we can finish this wretched business for good." Reaching up, he ran his fingers absently down her cheek, and added, "I can't wait to see the looks on your faces when you each get my farewell gift to you."

The tone of his voice made her shiver with apprehension but she refused to allow herself to be cowed by him. Steeling herself, she responded evenly, "I think you will be the one who ends up being surprised."

His face contorted in anger and he slapped her across the face with enough force to split her lower lip. She stood her ground and looked at him with disgust as a trickle of blood ran down her chin. He stared at the blood for a few moments, and, when she continued to stare at him defiantly making no move to wipe it away, he finally pulled a hand­kerchief from his pocket and reached over to wipe it off. Determined that he would not even have the satisfaction of seeing her flinch, she held her ground.

As he wiped the last of the blood away he said in a softer, almost sad, voice, "I don't know why you insist on provoking me, Maura. It will only make things more unpleasant for you and Darius in the long run. You already know I intend to make you watch as I kill him. You must realize I can make his death as long and as painful as I like. Do you really want to be responsible for that?"

The blood was gone and she could feel the lip already beginning to mend itself. Too bad. She would have liked it to remain as it was, so he would see the proof of what kind of man he really was. She responded coldly, "You have hated Darius and been jealous of him for such a long time, that you will do whatever you please to him regardless of how I act. You may kill us both or make us suffer as much as you please, but that will not change the fact that you are still a bully and a coward who preys on the helpless and innocent, and you will **never** be even half the man Darius was and still is."

She could see the rage boiling over in him as he moved to strike her again and braced herself for the blow. It never came as, distracted by a strangled cry from the front of the house, Grayson turned to see what had happened. Maura took advantage of the opening and began running as fast as she could toward the trees. She had explored every inch of the grounds and deliberately ran toward a treacherous section littered with overgrown roots and shrubs. She quickly hopped over a large root sticking out of the ground and in a few seconds had disappeared into the woods.

Grayson uttered a loud curse and began running after her, then suddenly there was a thud as he ran directly into the root she had avoided and fell to the ground. She slowed for a moment as she searched for the fastening to the skirt and in seconds it was left behind. Grateful for the relative freedom of the loose fitting pants she wore underneath, she ran quickly towards the cliffs overlooking the sea where there would be room to fight.

-----

Methos stood with his sword extended as the lighting pounded around him. He was exhausted from the intense battle, and was worried that Corin or Letho might come to and decide he was an enemy before he could recover his strength. He had forgotten how draining the Quickening could be. Of course, it was easy to forget when you hadn't been involved in a battle for over 100 years. He had trained, of course -- it was necessary to be prepared -- but he was tired of the fighting and had actively avoided confrontations during that long stretch of time.

Methos knew himself well enough to know he was not a hero. If his opponent had not already been extremely tired from his battle with Corin and had not had a serious stab wound in his side, Methos knew he wouldn't even have tried to take him. Although Corin was a good friend of Maura's, he wasn't ready to give his own head in a hopeless battle to try and save that friend. But the man **had** been tired and wounded. It probably would have been easier to let him take Corin's head, then just take his after the Quickening, but Methos didn't really want to dwell on why he hadn't done just that.

The last flickers of the Quickening were fading away and his strength was just starting to return, when he sensed the presence of another Immortal. Alarmed, he gripped his sword and struggled to his feet. Turning to face the new enemy, he found instead a priest. He had heard enough about the man to recognize Darius.

Slowly Methos' heartbeat returned to normal as he stood motionless under the assessing gaze of a pair of clear green eyes. The silence stretched out until finally Darius broke it, asking, "What do you plan to do with them?" indicating Corin and Letho who were still unconscious on the ground.

Uncomfortable under the priest's steady gaze, Methos responded, "Nothing. You'll need them for the rest of your journey."

"Then you are not one of Grayson's men."

"No."

"Did Maura send you?"

"Not exactly," Methos responded evasively.

"Is she all right?" Darius asked with concern.

"I don't know. I haven't seen her today."

Darius looked at him assessingly again. He knew the young man was being deliberately evasive and he didn't like it. He hadn't missed the look of concern that had crossed the young man's face at the mention of Maura. Obviously he knew her and even more obviously he cared about her, so why was he here and not back in town protecting her.

"Maura is in great danger," Darius said intently. "Since Grayson is not here, he must already have her. If that is so I must go back. If he has me, he might let her go."

Methos could see Darius trying to convince himself that was true, and he felt a twinge of sympathy for the man. It passed quickly when he reminded himself that Maura wouldn't be in danger at all if Darius hadn't chosen to show up here in the first place. Angrily he responded, "The best thing you can do for Maura now is to leave. We both know that if Grayson really wanted her dead he would have killed her long ago. He wants to make her suffer and he knows nothing could hurt her more than having to watch you die." He paused to give Darius a chance to absorb his words, then added, "She will do anything in her power to keep that from happening and I think you realize what Grayson's terms would be if he were even in the mood to negotiate."

Pain was etched on Darius' face and Methos could see the struggle going on within him. Finally he pinned Methos with those penetrating eyes and asked intently, "Are you going to help her?"

Methos tensed at the direct question. He desperately wanted to say _No, I've done my part; she's on her own_, but the words wouldn't come. Finally he muttered, "Yes."

Darius checked the men on the ground. "Their injuries are almost healed. They should be waking up soon. I'll send Corin back to help you."

"Tell him to go to the house. It's the most logical place for Grayson to have taken her."

He started to move away when suddenly Darius asked, "What is your name?"

Another question he didn't want to answer, but after a brief pause he replied, "Just call me Adam."

Those penetrating eyes seemed to be looking into his soul, but finally Darius said, "Thank you for your help, Adam," then added intently, "Take good care of her."

They stared at each other a moment longer, then Methos nodded and walked away. He found his horse and rode swiftly back toward the house that only a few days ago he had begun to think of as home.

-----

Maura's heart was hammering from the adrenaline rush as she came out into the clearing on top of the cliffs. She quickly pulled her sword free and turned to meet Grayson as he came out of the woods. He broke through the tree line and skidded to a halt when he saw her waiting for him. He glared angrily at her and pulled his own sword out of its sheaf. "You're full of surprises aren't you, you little bitch," he sneered at her. "Do you really think you have a chance against me?"

She returned his glare and taunted, "I almost killed you once -- I intend to finish the job this time."

He laughed at that as he circled around her looking for an opening, "You got lucky because I was distracted by Darius. You'll never get an opportunity like that again. You should have taken it when you had the chance."

"Darius isn't here to stop me this time," she responded as she thrust her sword at him.

Again the clank of metal against metal filled the night. Grayson was unnerved by the level of her skill but he fought back each parry and thrust while trying to find an opening to take her down. He had expected she would tire quickly fighting against his greater height and weight but her blows were efficient and economical. He had forgotten what a good warrior she was.

Concentrating on her opponent, Maura didn't notice the small rock by her left foot. When she shifted position, her foot came down on it. Losing her balance, she fell, hearing the bones in her ankle pop and feeling the searing pain lance through her as she went down. Keeping a tight grip on her sword, she rolled away from Grayson, just missing a slice from his sword that would have opened half her chest. Struggling against the pain, she dragged herself to her feet, and, favoring the throbbing foot, turned to face him again.

He had a victorious, wolfish grin on his face as he mocked her, "Give up, Maura, before it's too late. It doesn't have to end like this. You know you don't have a chance against me now."

"I'll see you in hell," was her only response as she swung at him again.

He jumped back, but not quickly enough, and her sword grazed his arm, opening up a deep red gash from shoulder to elbow. He seemed surprised by the injury but the surprise quickly turned to fury. He moved toward her again but she pushed him back with a clean thrust.

The pain in her ankle was subsiding. She wasn't sure if it had begun healing or if the adrenaline rush was simply overwhelming her pain sensors, but she was grateful for the relief. She knew she was fighting for her life now and didn't need any distractions.

She pressed him again, using a trick Cassandra had taught her long ago and it was his turn to stumble and fall. Shock and fear crossed his face as her sword came down and went through his stomach. Maura watched him looking desperately for a way out as she raised her sword for the final strike; and, too late, she realized how close they were to the edge of the cliff. Before she could complete the swing, he rolled to the side and fell off the cliff into the raging waters below.

She screamed in frustration, throwing the sword to the ground then quickly picking it up as she rushed to the edge of the cliff. She could see his body in the water below but knew by the time she got down there it would be gone.

The sound of voices moving toward her through the woods reached her at the same time she sensed the presence of other Immortals; her body trembling with the effort, she turned with sword raised to face the new intruders. Roland and Marcus stood there gaping at her. They both had cuts and bruises that were already beginning to heal but otherwise they looked fine.

"What happened to Grayson," Marcus asked anxiously.

"I almost had him," she responded bitterly, "but he threw himself over the cliff." Realizing she still had the sword raised defensively, she lowered it and both men walked over to embrace her.

Methos watched from his hiding place several hundred feet away. He had arrived right after the battle started and, knowing he couldn't interfere, had held back to await the outcome. He knew the trick he'd used on Corin's opponent wouldn't work on Grayson. It was obvious from the way he attacked her that he meant to finish it this time. It wouldn't have mattered to him if Methos had threatened to take his head as soon as he had taken hers -- which was exactly what he intended to do -- Grayson was irrational to the point that losing his own life wouldn't matter as long as he took hers first.

Maura was safe with her friends now. That was all that really mattered. It was too bad she hadn't been able to kill Grayson, but she had come closer than Methos had ever expected she could. He was impressed by her skill and it made him even more wary of her threat to take his head if she ever saw him again.

Just then Corin came out of the woods toward the little group assembled by the cliff. He was still in pretty bad shape, but he went right to Maura and picked her up and hugged her. From his manner and the way Maura relaxed as they talked, Methos knew Darius was safely on his way. He took one last regretful look at her, then slipped back through the trees to his horse and rode off into the night.

MacLeod and Dawson looked on anxiously as Maura and Methos just stared at each other. The spell was broken when a smile spread across Maura's face and she said with genuine pleasure, "Michael, it's good to see you again."

Methos still looked wary but he allowed her to approach and accepted the hug she offered. It felt good to hold her again, but he couldn't forget the last words she had ever spoken to him. Releasing her regretfully he said with forced lightness, "Does this mean you've changed your mind about taking my head?"

Maura flushed with embarrassment and responded ruefully, "I'm sorry about that. I was under a lot of stress that day."

He couldn't help laughing at the enormity of the understatement as he searched her eyes for signs this was a trap. All he saw there was genuine regret, so, relaxing perceptibly, he reached out and took her hands in his. Looking closely at her, he couldn't help thinking how beautiful she was. The signs of strain that had marred her delicate features the last time he had seen her were gone. She was radiant, like the first time he had seen her on the promenade, but even more so. There had been a shadow of mystery about her then and a tinge of sadness that was palpable. Of course, Grayson had had a lot to do with that and now that he was gone, there was a lot less for her to worry about.

Thoughts of Grayson led to thoughts of Darius and Methos felt his apprehension returning. Part of the reason he had walked away so long ago was the knowledge that part of her would always belong to Darius. He couldn't help wondering what it been like for her to finally lose him after all those years. He was reminded they weren't alone, when MacLeod cleared his throat. "Well, I guess I can skip the introductions since obviously the two of you have already met."

Maura laughed and replied, "Yes, we have, although it's been over 100 years since we met in a small resort town in France. I guess I shouldn't assume you're still using Michael."

Methos smiled and bowed gallantly, "Adam Pierson at your service, mademoiselle."

She smiled gently, "Adam – I like it, it suits you."

Joe Dawson had been standing there gaping at the entire exchange when he realized what story in her Chronicles she had to be referring to. He looked at Methos wonderingly and said, "Wait a minute, **you** were Michael Devereaux?"

Methos shrugged and said lightly, "Guilty as charged," as Maura smiled at him.

But Joe had become angry, "I can't believe it. We always thought Maura sent Devereaux away because he was mortal. You're an Immortal. How could you have walked out on her like that – leaving her to face Grayson alone!"

Methos felt the sting of the rebuke. Of course Joe would think the worst. After all he had lived through the resurrection of the Four Horsemen and that still overshadowed his previously good opinion of Adam Pierson. Besides, thinking Michael Devereaux was mortal, none of the Watchers had been keeping an eye on him and, expecting the confrontation to happen at the symposium, none of them had followed the coach, so no one but Darius knew that he had even come back, let alone been involved in the battle. The official Chronicles reported that Corin was responsible for the death of Gareth, and Methos had been happy to leave them that way.

He wasn't even going to respond to Joe's outburst, but he was surprised by Maura's angry response, "He didn't abandon me. He had a very good reason for leaving -- I never told him who I really was and why I was really there, and when he found out he had every right to be upset. I put his life in danger by keeping the truth from him and that wasn't fair. And for your information, since you Watchers don't know everything like you seem to think you do, he not only came back, but he also saved Darius' life -- and Corin's and Roland's as well!"

Dawson and MacLeod were both looking at her in stunned surprise. Maura's eyes were blazing as she glared at Joe and he looked at Methos sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. She's right, I only know what the Watchers recorded and I should realize by now that that's very rarely the complete story."

Maura's eyes were still stormy so, grateful for her passionate defense of him, Methos pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly against him. Over her shoulder he said, "Don't worry about it, Joe. All is forgiven." He looked down at Maura and said, "Right?"

Her answering smile lightened his heart as she responded impishly, "Whatever you say."

His arms tightened around her as he whispered, "I'm very happy to see you again, too."

Of course Joe and MacLeod wanted to know the entire story as it had really happened. Maura was willing to accommodate them to a point, but she decided to give them the short version. She wasn't ready to talk about Kapul yet, especially since she knew how much Duncan admired Darius and how that story would forever change Duncan's view of his mentor and friend.

When she had finished her part of the story and Methos had added his, Joe and Duncan both looked thoughtful. Duncan finally looked at Methos and said, "I thought when we first met you told me you hadn't fought in over 200 years."

Methos shrugged and replied indifferently, "I said I hadn't been challenged in 200 years. Besides, after the first thousand years, you tend to lose track. After all, what's a century or two between friends."

Duncan rolled his eyes and shook his head dismissively as if he had expected the flippant response.

Noticing the increasing activity at the bar, Joe excused himself to go help out. Sensing that Maura and Methos had some things to talk about before she went home, MacLeod finished his drink and, rising from the table, said, "Well, as interesting as this evening has been, I think I'm going to call it a night." To Maura he added, "I'll see you in class next week," and to Methos, "Don't let her stay up too late, she's got a long drive ahead of her and has to get up early for school tomorrow."

Maura rolled her eyes at Duncan as Methos responded flippantly, "O.K., Dad. I promise to have her home by midnight."

MacLeod gave him a glare at the insolent response, then walked over to the bar to say goodbye to Joe. Almost immediately the two men huddled in deep discussion.

Maura shook her head at the sight, "This is ridiculous. Here I am almost 1,500 years old and I feel like a teenager on my first date. Do you want to go someplace where we can talk privately for awhile?" At the apprehensive look that crossed his face, she smiled and added with amusement, "I'll leave my sword here with Joe if it'll make you feel better about my intentions."

Tempted by the idea, he nevertheless shook his head and replied, "That won't be necessary. I trust you." He was surprised to realize he meant it. He helped her on with her coat and they walked over to the bar where Joe and MacLeod were still talking intently.

Methos cleared his throat to warn the two men of their approach and was rewarded by a guilty silence. "We thought we'd let you know, we're going for a walk," he said, then added innocently, "there's no need for either of you to wait up for us. I already promised to have her home by midnight."

Maura laughed and slipped her arm through his as they turned to head for the door.

Joe looked at MacLeod forlornly, "This probably sounds terrible Mac, but why do I feel like my only daughter just left with . . .," he let the sentence trail off as he realized who he was talking about.

"One of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?" MacLeod finished tentatively.

Embarrassed, Joe responded defensively, "He's really not that bad. After all, look how good he was to Alexa."

"No, he's not," MacLeod responded dubiously, but he couldn't help thinking of Cassandra, even though he knew that wasn't fair -- after all, that had happened almost 3,000 years ago.

"And they're both responsible adults, right? Besides, he promised to have her home by midnight. How much trouble could they get into?"

MacLeod looked at Joe with surprise, "Don't forget we're talking about Methos, Joe. He never said **whose** home."

Thunderstruck, Joe said softly, "I think I'm going to have to kill him."

"Stand in line," MacLeod responded curtly.

-----

Walking hand in hand by the river felt comfortable and familiar. They walked silently, but it was a companionable silence, not an awkward one. Finally, they stopped at one of the river overlooks and Maura leaned against the railing to look out at the dark river. Here and there lights from the buildings lining its banks illuminated small patches of water, creating optical illusions in the gently lapping water. She stood enjoying the show for a few minutes and relishing the sense of peace that came with having him beside her.

Finally, she turned to face him. It was time to confront another one of her ghosts. He must have sensed the change in her mood because he was looking at her intently, and a little warily, trying to figure out what she was thinking. She leaned back against the railing as she looked up at him. She had forgotten how tall he was -- almost 6' to her 5'7" -- and she couldn't help admiring again how well every part of that 6' frame fit together.

She began softly, "I really am sorry about the terrible things I said the last time I saw you. I was under a lot of stress because I had just found out that Darius was coming, and your little revelation was the straw that broke the camel's back. But I have to admit it was also a good excuse to get you to leave. I already had too much to worry about and I wanted you out of harm's way."

He continued looking at her intently as he asked, "Why didn't you just tell me what was going on and let me make my own decision."

She looked down in embarrassment. "I know this won't make any sense, but I was afraid you would stay, but I was just as afraid you wouldn't." Her eyes returned to his as she continued, "It was easier to take the decision out of your hands."

He stood silently for a few moments, then finally, with obvious difficulty, asked, "Would we be having this conversation if I hadn't come back and helped Darius?"

He was surprised that she really thought about it for a few minutes before answering, "Yes, we would. You had every right to leave. I wasn't being honest with you and, more than that, I put your life in danger for no good reason. I have no excuse for that. All I can say is that when we were together it felt so right, so magical, that I didn't want it to end. Every night I told myself 'I'll tell him everything tomorrow,' but somehow that tomorrow never came.

"But when word came that Darius was coming, I knew I couldn't keep it from you any longer. With Darius and me in the same place at the same time, there was no way Grayson wouldn't make a personal appearance. I swear to you that I was going to tell you everything as soon as I saw you. But as soon as I saw your face, I knew it was too late."

The intensity and earnestness of Maura's words affected Methos deeply. It was important to her that he believe her and understand why she had done the things she had done. And he did, because he knew he was just as guilty as she was. After all, he hadn't asked her what was going on, even when he could tell something was wrong, for the same reason she had not told -- he didn't want to ruin what they had. Because he had been pretty sure the truth would ruin everything and, remembering the intensity of Darius' gaze when he told Methos to take care of her, Methos knew he had been right. What a love triangle that would have been.

He decided to pull the conversation back to safer ground and asked, "How did you find out about me coming back to help Darius? Did he tell Corin?"

She hesitated an instant too long and he felt his apprehension returning. Finally, she said with effort, "No, Darius told me himself . . . . I went to see him a few weeks before he died. He told me you said your name was Adam, but I knew it was you from his description."

Watching her struggle with the memories, he was torn by conflicting emotions -- sorrow for her loss, relief that she had been able to see Darius before he died, anger at how much she had obviously been hurt by his death and, most surprising to him, jealousy at the thought of her being with Darius again.

He swallowed a lump forming in his throat and said, "I hope it gave you some comfort that you were able to see him before it was too late. It was obvious even in the few minutes I spent with him how much he loved you. He didn't care about anything except making sure you were safe."

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she turned away from him to look out at the glittering river again. She felt his arms slip around her waist and he stood there silently, holding her gently against him. The soft lapping of the water against the pier lulled her and finally the tears subsided enough that she could tell him the entire story. It came slowly at first -- how she had finally gotten up the courage to go see Darius, their subsequent phone calls, how happy she had been the day she headed out for their second visit -- then the words tumbled out as she described her kidnapping, how she had tried to reach out and warn Darius before it was too late, his final thoughts to her before he died and the horror of realizing he was really gone followed by the terrible sense of aloneness.

Methos was shocked by the story. The thought that Horton had actually had Maura sent a chill through him. There were very few Immortals who had fallen into Horton's clutches who had survived to tell the tale. He held her tighter against him as the story continued to spill from her and as it unfolded he couldn't imagine how she had managed to live through it.

In 5,000 years he had lost many people he loved in many different ways. Alexa had been the most recent but she certainly wasn't the first, nor, he was very afraid, would she be the last. But he couldn't imagine what it had been like for Maura to lose Darius after almost 1,500 years or how she had managed to go on afterward and build the obvi­ously happy life she now had.

As if reading his mind, she said forlornly, "I almost didn't make it through those first few months. I'd never felt so alone in my entire life. I stayed with Corie and his wife for awhile, but he was as devastated as I was. Instead of helping each other through the grief, we were a constant reminder to each other of all that had happened, and be­ing connected to the old memories just sent me deeper into depression.

"That's when I decided it was time to finally meet Duncan MacLeod." Maura paused a moment, unsure of whether to tell him this part, but afraid someone else would. Not wanting anymore secrets between them, she finally continued, "I wanted to thank him for all he did for Darius and for killing Grayson. But I also had a favor to ask him." She shivered in his arms as she gathered her courage to say the words, "I asked him to take my head."

As the shock and horror of those words penetrated his conscious­ness, Methos gently turned her around to face him. He needed to see the expression on her face to really believe she had said what he thought he had heard. "What did you just say?" he asked numbly.

Maura's eyes were glistening with tears and her lower lip trembled slightly as she repeated, "I asked him to take my head." He continued to stare disbelievingly at her. She swallowed with effort, then gave a nervous laugh and said, "Obviously he refused."

He stared at her for several more seconds before he pulled her to him and hugged her tightly to his chest. Just hearing those terrible words had filled him with such dread that he didn't want to ever let go. If things had been just a little different she would be dead now and he wouldn't ever be able to hold her like this again, or to kiss her, or most of all to love her.

Instead of the rejection she had feared, she was surprised when he began telling her of times when he had wondered if life was worth living, when things had been so bad that letting go had seemed easier. But he had always been a survivor and somehow had managed to pull through and go on no matter how bad things had seemed.

Then with obvious effort he told her of the time he had offered Duncan MacLeod his head so MacLeod could defeat the evil Immortal Kalas. "I knew I couldn't beat him and if he got my head MacLeod wouldn't be able to defeat him either. It seemed like the perfect solution, but MacLeod wouldn't do it."

He looked away and continued sadly, "Sometimes I wonder if he's sorry now that he didn't do it. If he'd defeated Kalas that first time, Hugh Fitzcairn and a lot of others, mortal and Immortal alike, might still be alive; Immortals and Watchers wouldn't have gone to the brink of war over all the deaths, and the Four Horsemen never would have ridden again."

It was her turn to hug him tightly to her and they clung to each other in the cool night air not wanting to ever let go.

It was 11:30 when they started walking back to their cars. Looking at his watch Methos said sheepishly, "I'm going to be in big trouble with Dad and big brother tomorrow. I promised to have you home by midnight and you've still got over an hour's drive ahead of you."

She smiled gently and rolled her eyes, "I'll be fine. I'm used to running on a lot less sleep than this. And if they give you any trouble, send them to me. I'll be more than happy to put them in their places. After all, in spite of appearances, compared to us they're both children."

He laughed at that and squeezed her hand gently in his.

When they got to her car, he took her into his arms wordlessly and kissed her deeply. Her body responded to his touch and she returned the kiss just as passionately. Even though she knew she had to be at work at 8:00 a.m., every nerve ending in her body was screaming _don't leave_!

As if reading her mind, he broke the kiss and whispered softly in her ear, "Don't go." It was all she needed to hear.

Twenty minutes later they were in his apartment. As he kissed her and lowered her onto the bed her eyes touched briefly on the clock on the bedside table. She smiled as she kissed him and whispered softly, "Look, we made it home by midnight after all."

Laughing heartily, he murmured, "I don't think this is what they had in mind," as he returned the kiss.

THE END

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The character Maura is purely this author's creation. The full story of Maura and Darius, which is synopsized here, is available elsewhere on this site in the story by this author entitled "Maura". The third story in the Maura trilogy, "Choices," is also available elsewhere on this site.


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